


As we get older, plainer, saner

by bitfibber



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Commander Glimmer, Consequences of war, Eventual Romance, F/F, Not really a redemption fic though, Slow Burn, giving war the respect it deserves, good relationship praxis, how to respond to unhealthy relationship expectations, military ethics, realities of war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitfibber/pseuds/bitfibber
Summary: When the dust finally settles, Catra spurns her own redemption and Adora doesn't even try forgiving herself, let alone Catra. Despite this, they insist on stumbling through their maladapted peace hand-in-hand.An attempt to capture the ways that war changes us through a series of key moments in Catra and Adora's relationship throughout the war, its ending, and the aftermath.





	1. Days of no surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Couple things:  
> \- POV switches between Catra and Adora depending on the scene (context clues should guide you).  
> \- This fic is not beta'd because I don't want to bother my excellent beta with anything but my main Adventure Time fics (which I am still working on!).  
> \- This is not quite a redemption fic, to be honest.  
> \- Since this is a childrens show, obviously I will try to explore the realities of war.  
> \- title adapted from LP's Lost on You.
> 
> This was supposed to be a oneshot, but you can thank my girlfriend and Trashibesensei for encouraging me to split it up and post it in parts.

Glimmer huffed when she dropped down into the puffy chair in her room. “Okay, that wasn’t so bad,” she said, “it wasn’t the most tiring mission we’ve been on.”

Bow plopped down next to her. His cheek had a messily done up bandage covering a shallow scratch on his cheek. The rest of his face and the exterior of the bandage was streaked with dirt. In fact, they were all covered in a layer of dust and grime, sometimes streaked in places where it had mixed with sweat and been wiped at.

Adora dragged the Sword of Protection behind her along the ground, making a long scraping noise, before flopping down face first into the final feather bag. She mumbled something into it, and Bow made a _‘hmm?’_ noise in response.

“I said,” Adora lifted her face from the soft fabric, her voice dark, “are you kidding me? That mission was exhausting.”

On its own, a five day supply wagon escort was nothing to sneeze at. Even if the caravan of supplies running from the Kingdom of Snows to Brightmoon had gone without a hitch, it would have been tiring. However, they had been plagued with attacks all along the journey as soon as they left the snow behind. Forced to fight or abandon the wagons, the team spent nearly the entire trip harried by Horde soldiers  and therefore unable to sleep or even eat with any regularity.

Glimmer made a noncommittal noise in her throat, whereas Bow gave Adora a concerned look. “It was long, sure,” he reasoned, “but this time we weren’t constantly worried that we were gonna die. The Horde seemed to only send small strike teams. It’s not like it was the Battle for Brightmoon part two.”

Everyone grimaced at the mention of the Battle. Nearly year ago now, that narrow victory had barely secured the Princess Alliance and cost Castle Brightmoon many lives, even if all the Princesses themselves had made it out mostly unscathed. The victory wasn’t nearly the end of their problems, though, as keeping the Princess Alliance together turned out to be an ongoing chore. Apparently, no one besides Queen Angella had considered that not everyone would agree with one another all the time, and the Princess Alliances response to the Horde’s aggression over the last year frequently became bogged down in what could only be called ‘political growing pains’.

Often, the only solution that everyone seemed to agree on was ‘send She-ra’, and so Adora gladly shouldered the burden for the sake of reaching a course of action. Privately, she hoped that the Alliance could grow out their total dependence on She-ra in time, but for now she wore closer and closer to the bone. Perhaps if that burden just involved taking out some tanks, tossing some boulders to break enemy lines, or personally sending entire squadrons of Horde peons packing with their tail between their legs, then Adora wouldn’t feel so immensely tired.

But, there was Catra. She somehow managed to show up at every other skirmish, mission, or town defense that Adora attended. She somehow managed to corner Adora alone, usually. They walked through the same tired fight: Catra taunted Adora, Adora rose to the bait, Adora struck a nerve, Catra struck back, Adora felt guilty, and it finally ended when one of them either saved the other's life or attempted to end it, depending on the day.

And Adora was tired, so tired, of carrying the incrementally increasing weight of her guilt. She was tired of halfheartedly trying to slice a woman she still has some kind of bond with in half. She was tired of trying to guess at what Catra was feeling and coming up with explanations for how she missed all of Catra’s torment during their time in the Horde. She was tired of getting all her attempts to help Catra now rejected as ‘too little, too late’. She was tired of compulsively trying to put their friendship back together. She was tired of being sorry.

“Yeah well you two don’t have to deal with Catra,” Adora spat irritably, dropping the hilt of the sword to let it clatter on the ground and flipping over to grind the heels of her palms into her eyes, heaving a large sigh.

Of the four days they spent harassed by the Horde strike teams, Catra showed up to lead the teams for the last two. Two straight days of fending off Catra physically and emotionally.

“What, it’s not like she’s that bad, Adora,” Glimmer dismissed and Adora could practically see her waving her hand in the dark of her mind, “She’s just one person; you can’t tell me it’s more tiring to fight with her than it is to take out a whole squad like I’ve seen you do.”

“You don’t get it, Glimmer,” Adora snapped, removing her hands from her eyes to glare at her, “every time we fight, we argue about-” Adora struggled to find the right words, gesturing wildly, “-about us! About me leaving the Horde! About our friendship! About our- our feelings, or whatever!”

Adora’s face flushed red and she couldn’t figure out if it was because she was at her wits end or because she just didn't know how to talk about this without feeling weak. Bow and Glimmer stared at her now, looking shocked. Adora leaned forward to put her elbows on her thighs and rub her temples, just to escape their gaze. “I’m just so sick of it, you know?” she muttered.

A firm hand gripped her shoulder then, and Adora looked up to meet Bow’s warm brown eyes. “Adora, why didn’t you say anything to us?” He asked, “We had no idea that your fights with Catra were so...uh-”

“Intense,” Glimmer finished, now leaning forward from her seat, brows furrowed with worry.

Adora took a quick moment to be thankful for her two best friends. When she let them in, they never failed to support her. The, she turned to look at the ground.

“I don’t know,” She replied honestly, “I guess I just didn’t think there was anything to do about it. I guess I didn’t know how to tell you.”

In fact, this was the most Adora had ever told her friends about her and Catra’s previous friendship. In some ways, Adora guessed that they already knew that she and Catra had been good friends, it was hard not to tell from their interactions. However, Adora had never filled them in on how close they truly used to be.

“Well, you should have told us sooner,” Glimmer said haughtily, snapping her fingers as Bow started to turn to glare at her, “Because I know exactly what to do about it!”

 

* * *

 

  
It took Glimmer at least an hour to convince Adora to stick with the plan, but she was relentless. And now here Adora was, four months later, huddled into a small crevice on the side of the mountains near Dryl.

Earlier that day, Adora had taken Bow and some Brightmoon guards on a basic mission to explore some new First Ones ruins that Bow had picked up on his sensor. Queen Angella had asked for Glimmer to stay home and sort out some of the ongoing trade negotiations of the Alliance.

Adora wasn’t sure how Catra and her squad of Horde troops showed up so quickly after their group skirted around Dryl, but it would have to be a question for another day. A rumble heralded her arrival: Catra perched smugly atop a large ball droid cresting the side of the mountain above them. Adora was fairly certain that Catra spotted her, but that had happened before.

Instead of drawing the sword, transforming into She-ra, and joining the fray, Adora exchanged a quick look with Bow and turned to run.

She swung herself over the edge of the road and went scrabbling down the scree downhill, searching for a hiding place before Catra caught up to her. She managed to find the crevice in a larger rock pile gathered adjacent to an old gnarled tree. It was just wide enough for her to squeeze into but deep enough to hide her completely in the dark. The entrance was partially obscured by another boulder, enough of a space to just barely get a clear picture of the tree.

Adora blew air up at the tendrils of hair hanging in her face. _'I feel like a coward,'_ She thought, running her finger over a sharp stone edge in the wall of the broken boulder.

The sound of a few small pieces of rocks sliding off one another whispered outside, barely audible. Adora stilled, training her breath to go even and steady. Nothing happened for a long moment, and just when Adora thought that she was imagining the previous noise, Catra leapt down into view from the top of the rock pile. She barely made a sound because of the black pads that covered the balls of her feet and her legs folded to absorb the shock of the drop. She straightened partially, maintaining a half-crouch as her mismatched eyes combed over the area. Even from her hideaway, Adora could see her ears twitching to pick up any sound. She held her breath, not daring to move.

At last, Catra’s shoulders slumped and her ears flattened against her head. Adora let out the breath she held, knowing that Catra had given up. Still, though, Catra stood there, long enough for Adora to wonder what, exactly, she was doing.

Suddenly, a deep snarl ripped out of Catra’s throat and she lunged forward at the old tree, slashing it with her claws. Startled by the vicious attack, Adora shrank back slightly. Catra carried on, mauling the tree again and again, pieces of bark and splinters flying whenever she struck.

Finally, she stilled, chest heaving from exertion. In front of her, the bark was stripped from roughly eight inch square section; deep gashes marred the denser wood below. The scars on Adora’s back itched, but she ignored the feeling. She knew firsthand how it felt to be on the receiving end of Catra’s claws.

Catra scrubbed the back of her hand on her cheek, but she stalked off before Adora could see if it was because she was upset or if an errant splinter had scratched her cheek.

Adora waited in the crevice for a long time after that, just to make sure that Catra and the rest of the Horde would be gone. Finally, after half an hour, Adora pulled herself free, wiggling her limbs and toes to shake off the tingling numbness. There was no rush; Bow and the other Brightmoon guards had been informed of this routine. They would head back to Brightmoon without her and Adora would make it back later. Adora reached out and touched the furrows in the tree. Over the last four months, she had ducked and run and hid at the first sniff of Catra’s presence. She still hated the plan, as the idea of running like a coward set her teeth on edge, but Adora had to admit that she felt a lot better emotionally without fielding Catra’s ire every other fight. She had occasionally gotten the chance to observe Catra from her hiding spots, her face usually flickering between perplexed and frustrated at Adora’s disappearance. This was the first time she had shown such an explosive reaction to their prolonged separation.

When she arrived back at Brightmoon, the sky now streaked with pinks as the sun began to set, Adora immediately told Glimmer and Bow what she had seen.

Bow raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow," he said, rubbing his chin, "it's like she's-- she's mourning the loss of your friendship or something."

"That doesn't make any sense; we haven't been friends since I left the Horde!" Adora responded, skeptical.

Bow shrugged. "Maybe it's the loss of your presence in her life, even if it was an antagonistic one."

"I knew it!" Glimmer crowed in triumph, "I knew this would get to her!! HA!"

Adora gave her a confused look. Glimmer looked incredibly smug.

"Okay so obviously, this plan was to help you mostly, Adora," Glimmer began, speaking rapidly, "But something that my mom said to me before I suggested it made me think this might happen. When I was complaining about having to spend so much time reassuring the Princesses in the Alliance, she told me that it was in our best interest to placate them because the more emotionally off-balance they were, the more likely they were to make mistakes that could endanger us all."

She met Adora’s gaze, a gleam in her eyes. "So when you told me about Catra, at first I thought, 'maybe that's what Catra has been doing to you' but then I figured, no, she's not that deep."

At this, Adora felt a bizarre impulse to defend her old friend rise in her chest, but she quelled it as Glimmer barreled on, "Then I figured, 'maybe this is a good way to do this to Catra instead' and I was totally right!" Glimmer set her fists on her hips, "she's totally losing it and soon she's going to make a big mistake and it's gonna be great for us!"

Bow seemed genuinely impressed. "Damn, Glimmer, that's a really good plan," he said, nodding slowly, "an ice cold plan, but definitely a good one nonetheless."

Adora swallowed, silent. She liked this plan even less now that she knew it was designed to hurt Catra too. But even as she thought it, Adora felt her frustration rise with herself as the target. How long would she keep acting on her knee-jerk reaction to protect Catra’s feelings when Catra clearly had no regard for hers? She hated the idea of being weaponized against Catra, but isn't that what you did to enemies in a time of war? Besides, maybe the faster Catra messed up, the faster this war would end.

 

* * *

 

Catra slammed into the inside wall of the tank with snarl. “If you can’t drive this thing any better than a child, soldier, then I will find a child to replace you!” she snapped at the soldier in the driver’s seat. He started, jerking to attention before saluting. She ground her teeth while the turret operators tried to look busy. Truthfully, it wasn’t his fault, she knew that the giant roots of the Whispering Woods made driving a tank a nightmare. However, stewing in the cramped heat of a tank’s cockpit was not Catra’s ideal way to enter a battle. She preferred to ride balanced on the top of a mecha bot, calling out orders and looking the vision of a Commander.

After five months of getting ghosted by Adora, however, Catra had been reduced to sharing a sweaty cockpit with a bunch of lackeys.

From mountains to woods, snows to the sea, Adora turned tail and ran like a damn coward every time Catra even showed a hair. Catra assumed that she was ducking her responsibility for ruining their friendship, which only frustrated Catra even more. Scorpia had a different take, treating it like a victory: proof that Adora truly feared Catra and her strength. So why did it feel like a punishment?

She spent the last five months building up a greater and greater dissatisfaction until finally Hordak approved an all-around silly plan of hers: test the recovery of the Whispering Woods to see if their damage had permanently weakened it. If the Horde made it through, excellent! It would become the Second Battle of Brightmoon. If not, then they would reprioritize destroying the woods. Overall, Hordak didn’t seem very interested with the outcome, but Catra figured that he was busy supervising the resource acquisition and control of the less organized kingdoms on the other side of the Fright Zone away from Brightmoon’s sphere of influence. The influx of resources and freshly “recruited” soldiers made Hordak quite agreeable to Catra’s tastes.

The attack was simple: march on Brightmoon through the Whispering Woods with a large force heavily fortified with mechabots and artillery. The Princesses had already been spotted, including She-ra, and now Catra was being ferried directly to her main target: Adora.

The tank began to shake more as the very ground began to tremble under the might of the Princesses powers. “Commander, we will arrive at the last spotted location of She-ra in thirty seconds,” the driver reported, a hint of fear that he couldn’t quite scrub out still left in his voice.

Catra managed to wait a full fifteen seconds before she popped the top hatch and swung up and out, landing on the top of the tank in a crouch. Immediately, the noise and chaos of the battle berated her senses. The scent of blood and burnt flesh filled her nose, courtesy of the nasty halberds carried by the Brightmoon guards and the electric batons and blasters from the Horde. She flattened her ears against her head to block out some of the noise of battle and artillery fire. Fortunately, she didn’t need to look or listen hard to find Adora; the form of She-ra was a beacon in the crowd.

The battle raged on around them, but there was no mistaking that She-ra saw her. Catra caught her eye and held it, the noise of carnage dying out for a sweet moment when Adora's eyes widened in recognition and she stilled. Then, she turned to run, escaping to some other part of the battle while Catra presumably got tangled up in the chaos.

"Not this time," Catra grated out under her breath, and she leapt off the tank and into the fray after Adora.

Adora was a phenomenal warrior and more than skilled at weaving through a crowd, but She-ra was an eight foot tall glowing target for Horde soldiers and tanks. She moved fast, but not fast enough to outrun Catra while avoiding the ire of every single Horder soldier along the way. _'On second thought_ ,' Catra thought with grim satisfaction, _'she has never been faster than me, no matter the context.'_

When the larger woman ducked a tank blast, Catra smashed into Adora's side, shoulder first, sprawling Adora in the dust.

She was up in record time, already turning to run again, but Catra expected that. She leapt over Adora, landing in front of her just as Adora got her feet under her. Catra lashed out at her face, claws fully unsheathed. Adora's sword radiated light briefly, changing into a shield that obscured Adora's face just in time. Catra’s black claws screeched as they passed over the metal.

Catra followed up with a vicious kick to the shield, hoping to knock Adora off balance again. It was a mistake, as She-ra had her feet under her now and the rock steady stance meant that Catra’s kick unbalanced herself more than Adora.

She stumbled back slightly, quickly crouching into a ready stance with her hands up. She ignored the throbbing in her foot where it connected with the metal of the shield.

"Hey Adora," Catra drawled, "long time, no see. Feels like you've been avoiding me."

Adora straightened with a sigh, the shield transforming back into the sword as she lowered it to her side. Her eyes no longer darted around for an escape, and Catra wondered if perhaps she was resigned to this fight for the first time in nearly half a year.

"Catra-" she started, her voice tired.

Whatever she was going to say, it was cut off by the distinct sound of magical apparition. Suddenly, Catra’s legs were swept out from under her at her knees. She thumped onto her back, but harnessed the momentum in her legs to propel her into a backwards somersault.

Now crouched on all fours, Catra snarled up to see who had taken such a cheap shot. The Brightmoon Princess now stood between her and Adora, arm outstretched with her staff at the ready. Presumably, she had used the staff to sweep Catra.

"She-ra! You're needed at the front," the Princess’ tone was formal and commanding, "I'll take over here for you."

Catra was shocked. She may not have gotten the confirmation that she craved from Adora that she was being avoided, but this would suffice. If Adora's new replacement friends were at the ready to intervene, then this must be a long term plan. Adora looked startled too and almost seemed like she might protest, but then she nodded grimly and turned to charge off in the other direction, back to a more populated part of the battle.

Catra growled and easily dodged past the Princess (was it Glimmer? Shimmer?) to pursue Adora, faster than some sparkle princess could ever be. She was gaining quickly when she heard that _pop_ again and felt a hand on her back. Suddenly she was 8 feet above the ground, still mid bound. Catra flailed her arms and tail to right herself and landed neatly on her feet. Glimmer popped back into existence in front of her again.

Catra looked around. She was even farther away from where she had started, and now Adora was nowhere in sight, having disappeared into the surrounding forest. Catra hissed at Glimmers smug face. She had forgotten about the teleportation.

"You want Adora? You'll have to go through me first." Glimmer had a commanding tone. Catra hated it.

"Fine, you want to play instead?” Catra hissed at her, “Your funeral."

She lunged for the girl, but she closed on empty air. Instead, she felt that cursed staff hook her leg and send her rolling. Glimmer reappeared in front of her once again, just out of reach. Several more tries to catch Glimmer left her dirty and bruised with only a few scraps of fabric to show for it.

Catra growled in frustration. ‘ _How am I supposed to land more than one or two hits on a disappearing enemy?’_ Then, her eyes widened. ‘ _Her hand on my back.. If she's touching you, then you go with her. I don't have to worry about landing any hits if I can just catch her once.’_

She sprang after Glimmer haphazardly several more times, occasionally getting close and taking several jabs from the end of the staff in the ribs and back for it. However, it was more than enough to get a read on where Glimmer generally teleported to: the back right or left of Catra, and usually a little up in the air, before she teleported again to ground farther away. There was no pattern to whether Glimmer chose the left or right. Catra had a fifty-fifty shot of getting it right.

She feinted at Glimmer, but as soon as the girl saw her attack and she disappeared, Catra pivoted and lunged to the back left.

Catra guessed correctly. Her claws dug deeply into the flesh of the girl's calves and Glimmer screamed in pain. They started to fall in a tangle of limbs, but then the pull of teleportation saved them from the ground. Catra tightened her grip on reflex.

They winked back into the world high above the battle field and began to drop, Catra’s stomach flipping. Suddenly Catra realized that she hadn’t actually considered what might happen if she actually did catch Glimmer. Now she clung to Glimmers legs in a panic, trying pull herself closer in order to make sure the girl didn't dislodge her and teleport away to leave to to fall to her death. Glimmer thrashed her legs in an effort to shake Catra off.

Glimmer freed one of her legs and tried to kick at Catra’s face and hands, anything to get her claws from where they sunk deep into the muscle of her right calf. Catra took two kicks to the face and lost the partial mask that framed her face, the other kick drawing blood from her nose. She ducked the third wild kick and hauled herself closer to Glimmers torso, above where her hands were gripping the leg, the movement turning the deep puncture wounds into large gashes and eliciting a scream from Glimmer.

Catra’s ears rang from the rush of air and Glimmers shrieks as the ground came up to meet them. But just as Catra was sure that Glimmer was planning to kill them both, they teleported far above again. She swung the staff at Catra in an arch that caught her cheek on one of the bladed sides, slicing it open. Catra yowled into the wind as blood from Glimmers legs spattered up onto her chest and face as they fell, mixing with her own blood from her cheek and nose.

She could feel herself being shaken loose now, and a great fury rose in her chest. First Adora left her and now she couldn't even deign to fight Catra herself? She had been relegated to to fighting some half-pint lackey instead, unworthy of Adora’s attention even in battle. Catra was furious; she rejected this. She would not be treated as less than a worthy enemy and she refused to be left in the air to die.

One of her hands let go of Glimmers calf and wrapped around her thigh, claws digging in new holes just above her knee. Her grip secure, Catra opened her mouth and slammed her fangs deep into the flesh just behind Glimmers knee. Then, she clenched her jaw and bit down _hard_ , fighting a gag as hot blood filled her mouth and her teeth caught on the tough tendons connecting the muscles of the back of the  thigh to the knee.

Glimmer’s shrieks turned from a high pitched scream to the low, guttural yell of pure agony and her body stiffened in Catra’s grasp, no longer kicking at her face.

The fall abruptly stopped when they teleported onto a tank, landing with a clang. The boy with the bow jumped in surprise and horror as he caught a glimpse of their fight. Then, he was gone and now they were tangled in the dirt in front of She-ra, who stumbled to avoid trampling them both. Glimmer might have screamed something to Adora, but Catra couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears anymore.

"Glimmer!" Adora gasped, shocked at the sight.

With only a moment before Adora intervened, Catra took advantage of their brief respite from falling. She loosened her jaw and then bit down again, lifting her right hand to further savage Glimmers upper calf.

Adora lunged for Catra as Glimmer let loose another strangled cry and teleported repeatedly. Catra felt dizzy as they rapidly changed location, sometimes in the air, sometimes on the ground. Glimmer started desperately clawing at Catra’s head and face with her own much more blunt nails, catching Catra in the eye on more than one occasion.

The teleportations got more and more wild, now causing them to fall directly on soldiers and once, even appearing inside a tank, the soldiers screaming in fear along with Glimmer. Finally, they winked into existence just above a large tree branch in the Whispering Wood, away from the main combat area. As they dropped, the branch caught Catra in the solar plexus. All the air rushed from her lungs and she went limp. Glimmer fell past her, finally free of Catra’s grasp. She disappeared immediately before she hit another branch.

Catra slid off the large branch, the drop sending her limp body tumbling between branches large and small like a rag doll, slamming her head hard enough to see stars. One caught her where her neck met her shoulder and she felt a sickening snap as her collar bone broke. The tree canopy finally released her and she fell to the ground like a sack of grain. Her breath was ragged.

Her mouth was still coated in Glimmers blood. _‘Maybe Adora will think twice about letting her replacement friends fight her battles from now on.’_ Disgusted by this thought and by herself, Catra rolled over and vomited, trying to empty herself of her actions. Then, she was still.

Catra doesn't know how long she lay there before Scorpia found her.


	2. The toil of expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Catra and Glimmer spend time licking their wounds while Adora learns a powerful lesson. Later, Catra returns to the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got so long that I had to split it in half, so sorry if there's not enough Catradora content in here. There's plenty next chapter.
> 
> I am also available on tumblr! Same username. Send me a chat!
> 
> P.S. Get 'cho yrself a friend like Glimmer.

  
Catra remembered the coarse cloth of the field stretcher chafing her back and heard the murmurs of concern somewhere above her. Occasionally, she pieced together the blurry image of Scorpia swaying above her as the tank bumped over roots, sending jolts of pain through her chest and head. She faded in and out of consciousness; the darkness lapped at the edge of her vision like waves on the shoreline, her mind bobbing beneath the water. She didn’t remember arriving back at the Fright Zone, let alone going into the surgical bay.

When she woke, Lord Hordak himself waited for her.

She was still too far from the surface to even try to make the motions of respect to his command. Later, she thought she might have dreamt the whole thing, but in her swimming vision, he reached out to her. Gently, he cupped her face and steadied the lolling of her head, turning her face to meet his gaze. His giant hand was so cold, it felt like it sucked all the warmth from her face. The tiny whir of gears from a finger joint sounded near her ear and she distantly realized that the hand was robotic, made entirely of metal.

"The medics put your bone back together with a metal plate," his tone and face are as they always are: cold, even, and impersonal but now they clashed sharply with his seemingly tender gesture, "it will be the first of many such modifications as you do your part in my conquest of this planet."

Even in the fuzzy confusion of a concussion and the vestiges anestesia, his words struck her chest with the cold clarity of fear. Under Shadow Weaver’s command, she was enough of a person to inspire disappointment. But to Hordak, she realized, she was just another tool in his repertoire. Either she served her purpose or broke trying.

Hordak smoothed a sleek metal thumb over Catra’s cheek, wiping away a tear that leaked from her badly scratched blue eye. “When your injuries are stable, you will lead a war council of Force Captains. My chosen advisors will come for you when the medics clear you for clerical work again,” the point of the thumb suddenly pressed into her, threatening to pierce the skin next to her eye, “I’ll tolerate no defiance to their presence.” Catra was silent and unable to respond, her gut twisting as she struggled and failed to comprehend this mixture of benevolence and brutality.

Then, the pressure disappeared. Delicately, Hordak settled her battered head back down onto the pillow. She slipped into a dreamless sleep before he even made it to the door.

* * *

 

Adora set another large cushion down at the top of another one of the giant book shelves towering throughout the room, teetering at the top of a ladder. Despite the precariousness of her perch, Adora couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with awe at the wonder of the room. Brightmoon’s library was an impressive affair: the room sat at the back of Castle Brightmoon just against the mountain and contained perhaps more than twenty long rows of giant crystal bookshelves, each at least thirty feet in height. The tall stacks didn’t crowd, though, as the ceiling soared at least another ten feet above the tops of the shelves and was tiled with an interlocking network of skylights tinted with a subtle turquoise, bathing the room below in a soothing cool light. She sighed contentedly, drinking it all in, then patted the cushion into place.

Adora flinched in surprise as Glimmer suddenly flashed into existence on the plush cushion just as Adora’s hands finished smoothing out the lumps. Adora scrabbled for purchase at the top of the shelf as the ladder rocked beneath her before she finally managed to grab the lip of the shelf.

"Glimmer! You'll scare me to my doom if you keep this up," she gasped out, pressing a hand to her thumping chest after the ladder stabilized. She eyed the quartz floor warily, only a paltry thirty feet below.

"Well, I'm just eager to try out all my new reading spots!" Glimmer chirped back.

She sat with her butt just barely on the edge of the cushion while her left leg hung off into open space. Her right leg took up most of the room on the cushion was, cocooned in thick bandages starting from just above her ankle and disappearing under her skirt at mid thigh. A long piece of wood ran down the outside and had been carefully attached to splint the leg for stability.

It had been a little over a month since the battle where Catra had savaged Glimmer’s leg. As her recovery started to stretch on, Glimmer had decided that she would still be of use to to the rebellion, taking her mother’s advice and dedicating herself to finding useful information in the library. She insisted that Adora help her outfit the library with cushions strategically placed to give her good access to old war histories, books on large scale battle tactics, and most importantly, her father’s journals from the beginning of the war, when the rebellion was at its most fierce.

The healers and her mother cautiously approved, but only if Glimmer teleported her leg from one comfy pillow to the next, no walking under any circumstances. Glimmer told Bow and Adora in a cheery voice that she wanted to make sure she didn't waste this time before she was back to fighting on the frontline of the rebellion, but the words rang hollow. Every day that passed made a full recovery seem less and less likely. It was becoming clear that Catra’s work was permanent.

The damage had been extensive: deep muscle tissue tears in her calf and a complete severing of the ligament wrapping the outside of her knee joint and the tendon attaching a large muscle on the back of her thigh to her lower leg bone. Although the gashes in her muscles would partially heal, albeit with deep scarring, the healers had not yet been able to fix the severed connective tissue. In short, Glimmer had been hamstrung. The healers at Brightmoon predicted that she might never again walk without a limp, let alone run or fight.

Adora surveyed the injured leg balefully, her mouth curving into a small frown. The flash of Catra and Glimmer’s struggle during the third Whispering Wood battle had shocked Adora, and she had immediately turned tail and charged to the Castle to enlist the help of Queen Angella, perhaps the only person able to somehow catch up with or predict Glimmer’s teleporting. When she arrived at the palace, however, she was too late. Slamming the doors open to the war room where Angella was monitoring the battle, she was greeted by the clamor of healers mixed with the cacophony of alternating wails and sobs from Glimmer, lying prone on the floor of chamber surrounded by smears of her own blood. Her mother held her shoulders to the floor and talked to her urgently while a crowd of healers worked to dress the leg enough to transport Glimmer to the medical wing. Catra was nowhere to be seen and Adora was wise enough not to ask, choosing instead to walk through the empty dungeons on her own later that night.

They had won the battle handily and driven a broken force of Horde soldiers back to the very edge of the Fright Zone, but the victory came with a steep cost. She doubted that she would banish the image of Glimmers tear streaked face and mangled leg from her mind for a long time.

"Adora," Glimmer intoned, shaking her from her thoughts, "you're staring again."

"Sorry!" Adora exclaimed quickly, suddenly bustling down the ladder, "I'll go get another cushion. Which stack is the next section you want easy access to?"

"Adora come over here and sit down," Glimmer called to her, now nestled amongst a luxurious pile of pillows in small alcove framed by windows at the far end of the row of giant bookcases where she had chosen to set up her reading nook. She pointed at a small padded stool next to her, face set in a serious look.

Trying not to let her reluctance show, Adora hurried over and sat without saying anything.

Glimmer eyed her for a moment in a manner that made her look uncannily similar to her mother. "Okay, talk," she finally said, "I feel like if you don't get whatever it is that's on your mind out, you will never stop staring at my dumb leg."

Adora sighed. "I'm sorry I keep staring. I just--you know, feel responsible for this," she gestured at Glimmer’s bandaged leg, gingerly elevated on another carefully fluffed cushion, "if I hadn’t agreed to let you fight Catra, this wouldn't have happened to you."

 _‘If I thought she was capable of this, I wouldn't have let you anywhere near her’,_ she thought, but didn't say it out loud. No one else but Adora seemed surprised that Catra had inflicted such a nasty wound. The sheer malicious ferocity required clashed strongly with the memories of Catra that filled Adora’s head: Catra drawing little cartoon versions of them on adventures to put on the inside of her locker, Catra weeping in a blanket fort after a particularly strong reprimand from Shadow Weaver, Catra purring contentedly at the end her bed. Catra had always been a fierce and tricky opponent when they sparred, but never cruel.

Fingers snapped crisply in Adora’s face. "Adora! You're staring again! Listen to me," Glimmer commanded. Adora looked up.

"You can't blame yourself for this, okay? It's really not your fault. Even if this is Catra’s reaction to our plan to deprive her of contact with you, then that was still my plan, not yours."

"If that's true Glimmer, then I'm sorry but I think this plan was a bad idea! My personal health can suffer if it means Catra hurts other people less! I should have predicted that she would feel this way--"

"No, Adora, you shouldn't have," Glimmer cut in firmly, "it's not your job to read and predict Catra’s feelings. You aren't responsible for her actions. You can't _make_ Catra do anything. What she does is her own choice."

Adora had heard this before. “That’s not true, Glimmer,” she responded, “If I had left the Horde differently, then maybe I wouldn’t have hurt Catra so badly and she wouldn’t have done this. She might have even defected with me instead!”

Glimmer was already shaking her head. “No, Adora, you’re not getting it,” she was starting to sound a little exasperated now, “it’s perfectly fine for Catra to feel hurt and upset over you leaving, but she _chose_ to act on those feelings and _chose_ hurt other people. You didn’t force her hand. I mean, you’re powerful, for sure, but you’re not like, _that_ kind of a powerful.”

Adora opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. For nearly two years, Catra shot barbed reminders at Adora at every battle they both attended, implying that all the horrible choices Catra made was somehow the result of the onetime choice Adora made to leave the Horde.

But the more Adora thought about it, the more Glimmer’s words made sense. It still didn't mean that people wouldn't get hurt by Catra, though.

"Promise me you'll stick with the plan?" Glimmer’s voice was softer now, pleading, "I really think it's working."

Adora heaved a sigh. "Okay, I'll stick with it a little bit longer... but only if we make some changes!"

"I was thinking of something similar," Glimmer grinned wickedly, “And actually, I already have several _other_ ideas that I want to run by you as well.”

* * *

 

 

Catra rotated her shoulder experimentally, nervous to put the healed collarbone into combat again despite fully testing it in the training arena at the Fright Zone. Although the medics in the Fright Zone were excellent and she was begrudgingly thankful for their skill in aiding her speedy recovery, there was only so much they could do without giving her body time to heal itself. It had been eight weeks since she broke it and it was the last of her injuries to heal from her fight with Glimmer. It had also been the most annoying, although the eyepatch she had worn for a week over her blue eye due to a severe cornea scratch was a close second.

Absently, she rubbed her fingers over the scar to feel the nubs of the screws, thinking back on Hordak’s visit. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she recalled his words. The metal plate felt cold like Hordak’s hand every so often, as though the medics sewed a piece of ice under her skin.

Whatever his full motives, he certainly hadn’t been lying. Five days after the surgery, the advisors came for her as promised. Apparently, Hordak had seen the errors of his ways in depending entirely first on Shadow Weaver then on Catra for military plans. After her shameful loss in the Whispering Woods, perhaps he finally considered She-ra a credible threat to the Horde’s dominance that had marked the last decade and decided a war council would snuff her out. He never said so, but Catra suspected her new responsibility was meant to teach her the skills of war.

Overall, Catra was a poor planner, but fortunately she excelled at passing duties to other people. It turned out that once an individual was in a leadership position, ‘passing the buck’ became ‘delegating’. As such, she relied heavily on the Force Captains to come up with their own battle plans and propose all squad movements to the council. Ultimately, she basically confirmed that they would enact whatever battle plan they came up with unless it was glaringly terrible or Hordak’s advisors objected. While recovering, she spent almost all her time attending meetings with the council and occasionally with Hordak to discuss progress. Overall, it had been dreadfully boring.

"Commander, we're on the final approach,” the soldiers voice was tinny from within his helmet, shaking her from her thoughts. He saluted when she nodded and turned back to the rudder of the skiff.

“Get me my staff,” She commanded. The extendable, electrocuting staff appeared in her outstretched hand immediately, courtesy of another soldier from the squadron she was leading to the front lines of their newest operation.

This had been Scorpia’s plan as a sort of ‘warm-up’ for Catra: lead a frontline force into Plumeria, pillaging and destroying any villages on the way to the main center of the territory. Such operations were favored by Hordak’s advisors; they often yielded a plethora of resources for the Horde while depriving them from the enemy and deeply shook the local civilian’s faith in the rebellion. Her forces were now approaching the first village.

“Engaging,” one of her Force Captains clipped to Catra and into her radio. The tank traveling on the skiffs left flank flexed as the cannon on top began firing. The captain’s voice calm as he gave her status updates, “No rebel fighters present at the moment.”

Catra grunted in acknowledgement. “It won’t be long.”

She spun the unextended staff between her fingers while she waited patiently on the skiff for enemies worth her time and energy to fight. Catra knew that Adora would come, likely followed by at least the archer. With a pang, she remembered that there had been no reported sightings of the Princess of Brightmoon since their battle. _Did I kill her?_ Catra thought worriedly, _It’s too early to know. Likely her injuries will take longer than mine to heal and this is the first time I’ve been on the field._

Catra grit her teeth and growled low in her throat at her own thoughts. Why did she care if she had killed her or not? She certainly didn’t care about Glimmer herself. Mildly disgusted, she realized that she cared about whether or not she had irreparably damaged her relationship with Adora, which killing Glimmer would surely do.

A strangled scream pierced her thoughts. Her soldiers had just finished ransacking and setting fire to the village center when a vine reached out and dragged one of the Horde soldiers off into the woods as he screamed. “Commander, rebel combatants are now present! No visuals yet, but we have confirmed activity typical of Princess Perfuma’s known powers,” the Captain behind her promptly narrated.

Catra let a feral grin spread across her face. “The command is yours, Captain, I am joining the troops on the field.”

She didn’t wait for the confirmation salute. She sprang forward off the skiff, flipping forward once through the air before landing solid on the soft packed dirt of the village square, legs bunched beneath her to absorb the shock of her fall. Catra straightened and slid a small metal square up and around a corner in the staff, extending the metal from a mere foot in length to a full-sized quarterstaff, the ends sparking with electricity.

Surging forward, Catra followed the sound of shouts and blasters, weaving between two large huts to aid a squad besieged by rebel fighters on the outskirts of the village. The giant halberd that chopped a gun out of a Horde soldiers grasp told her that the rebel forces were from Brightmoon, as she had expected. As the Brightmoon guard brought the Halberd down in a wicked arc to end the unarmed soldiers life, Catra slid easily between them, catching the blow on her staff with a grunt. The guard bellowed at her and reversed the direction of the halberd, whipping the weighted end of the pole opposite the blade up to try and catch her in the chest or face. Catra parried the blow easily, deflecting the force up and to the side so the gap in his armor at his armpit lay exposed. She jammed the end of her staff into the opening and the guard screamed briefly as he was electrocuted, then collapsed into a pile, unconscious.

She helped cut through the remainder of the attackers facing this squad with a similarly savage glee, delighted to find that her collarbone didn’t even ache. The final two Brightmoon guards turned and fled into the foliage, likely heading back to regroup with other fighters somewhere in the woods. One of the Horde soldiers looked like they might have followed, but Catra signaled for them to remain. Chasing rebel fighters through the trees would only fracture their forces.

The squad followed her even without a signal, jogging along behind her as she headed towards the next ruckus. When she turned the corner of another building, a blow to the bottom of her chin sent her stumbling backwards, blood filling her mouth where one of her bottom fangs caught the inside of her lip.

Before she even opened her eyes, the squad behind her yelled in alarm as they were bundled into net. Catra recovered in the nick of time, just barely managing to jerk her head to the side so that Bow’s fist only glances off her jaw and pummeled into her freshly healed collarbone instead.

Pain and panic exploded in Catra’s chest and she thumped backwards onto the ground, her breath barely coming to her. The staff flew from her hand, skittering across the ground away from her. No longer concerned about the enemy standing over her, Catra immediately probed at her collarbone with her fingers, flooding with relief when she found the bone intact but the whole area very tender.

“That’s for Glimmer, you sick piece of-” the rest of Bow’s sentence was drowned out by a woman’s ear-piercing scream and he whipped his face to look somewhere behind him. Catra flexed her shoulder experimentally, anger rising to replace her panic. Bow looked distracted, as though there was something else he was supposed to be doing, but when Catra lunged upwards at him, he ducked easily out of her grasp as though he had never taken his eyes off her. At the same time, he casually swept Catra’s legs out from under her with his bow before turning to run towards the scream.

She fell to the dirt with huff, but was back up and after him in an instant, careening after him around another mud-thatched hut. Her feet scrabbled desperately through the dust as she cornered the building, but Catra didn’t care; Bow would lead her straight to Adora so she couldn’t afford to lose him now. Catra growled as she just barely managed to see him disappear into a writhing mass of people at the end of a narrow alleyway, all trying to flee in a mass panic as the Horde rumbled further into the village somewhere behind her.

She turned and jumped onto one of the huts walls, using her claws to easily scale the structure. Below her, a small open area around one of the village wells was filled with panicking civilians. They were mostly women and children, distinguishable by their soft hoods and headscarves, many carrying screaming toddlers or infants and burdened with hastily packed bundles of belongings. Sprinkled amongst them were Brightmoon guards, barking orders and herding the villagers into the trees through what looked like an old goat path, framed by two ancient columns of stone.

The crowd was packed up towards the path entrance and a string of villagers was already disappearing into the woods. Bow stood in front of one of the columns, waving people through, but Catra couldn’t find a hint of the ethereal glow that heralded She-ra’s presence. She narrowed her eyes and searched the crowd for Adora’s straw-colored hair or her red Horde jacket, but she wasn’t there.

Suddenly, a woman towards the back of the crowd shrieked, a trembling and knobby finger pointing straight at Catra. Nearly all the faces turned to look at her at once, and Catra felt frozen by the sheer quantity of terror directed at her. Sheer, naked fear adorned nearly every single expression. The Brightmoon guards were not among them, though, and at Bow’s command, they pushed through the crowd to form a line of halberds at the back of the crowd.

Next to her, Catra heard the ‘click’ of a new energy cartridge set into place on a blaster and she was surprised to see that one of the soldiers from the squad she had fought alongside had climbed up next to her unnoticed while she searched the crowd for Adora. Now, he raised his rifle up to his shoulder to take aim at the crowd and the guards. Catra reached out and pressed her hand down on the top of the sights, lowering the weapon. “Stand down,” she ordered quietly.

When the soldier looked at her in question she explained, “they’re clearly civilians. Let them go and tell the tale of how well the Rebellion protected their homes.”

The soldier nodded and pointed the blast rifle at the roof beneath them, choosing to watch the crowd with her. The villagers movements were frantic now, some discarding their packs in order to move faster through to the safety of the woods, many constantly whipping their heads around to check if Catra and the soldier had moved forward to attack. At one point, a woman shrouded by her hood and cloak scooped a frail woman’s pack from where she had dropped it. When she swung the pack up and onto her shoulder, Catra thought she caught a glimpse of familiar grey-blue eyes and blond hair. But then the woman had turned away again, shepherding the old woman along and melting into the crowd that trickled into the forest.

Catra narrowed her eyes, but remained where she stood and watched until the last of the villagers--now refugees--fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are confused about the timeline, please let me know or ask me on my Tumblr! Next chapter is half-written, so shouldn't be too terribly far off. Probably by the end of January? I have like three grants to write before I finish the chapter.


	3. Cut me loose (cut the noose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer and Adora find themselves defending a controversial plan of theirs from Queen Angella. Two months later, Catra is deeply troubled by the fruits of Adora's labor after observing the behavior of Rebellion soldiers on the Plumerian front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies for the delay. Chapter 3 ended up being over 10k words in the first draft, so I split it into two chapters. The second half is already written and all it needs is some editing, so I will upload it the moment I’m done editing, probably within the next day or so (which will be perhaps my fastest chapter turnaround EVER). This means that the Catradora is in the next chapter!
> 
> Also! If you are confused about the timeline of this story, please see the timeline I have made on my tumblr: [timeline link!](https://bitfibber.tumblr.com/post/183249868844/even-i-was-beginning-to-confuse-the-timeline-for)

 

“I’ve seen another bump in enlistments, which I suspect is due to the fourth camp of Plumeria refugees finally settling in, which is great! However, that means we will also need more staffs for combat training and other miscellaneous supplies,” Adora reported from a large fluffy cushion-chair, chewing at the end of her cut-reed pen while she poured over the bundle of notes sitting on her lap. She shuffled through and pulled out an errant sheet with an itemized list scribbled on it.

Adora slid it onto the edge of the large desk she sat in front of, the surface covered in stacks of books, some open but most closed, and piles of paper with corresponding inkwells. The desk had been moved into the library at Glimmer’s request and now occupied the space where she had previously set up her reading nook. Maps of the kingdoms of Etheria marked to show the Horde’s positions and progress covered the walls between the windows beyond the desk, and still more books sat in stacks on the floor. As her recovery progressed, Glimmer had turned the reading nook into her own dedicated study. For nearly every hour that she would have been fighting before her injury six months ago, Glimmer now spent twice that combing through pages from the past, taking detailed notes and plans and exchanging the loss of her presence on the battlefield for historical military knowledge. 

Behind the desk, Glimmer sat perched in a strange looking chair designed to ease the ache in her damaged leg. She nodded and scribbled down a note on her own paper and then rubbed at the bridge of her nose, a new habit she have picked up in the last few months when she was deep in thought. “It’s a bit earlier than the bump we saw from Camp Three, though, isn’t it?” Her lips twisted in a wry smile, “That’s probably because they’ve settled in faster since this is our fourth time setting up a refugee camp, so at least we’re getting better at something.”

Her comment was a sour compliment to themselves: Adora, Glimmer, and Bow had been responsible for the second, successful attempt to set up the first refugee camp and each subsequent camp had only gotten more and more efficient. All three still lamented that there was a need for the refugee camps, though, but the situation in Plumeria only became more and more dire.

She turned to look at Adora directly now, hands spread flat on the ink-stained wood. “Okay, the enlistment numbers are great, Adora, but what do you think about their progress? Is this plan going to work?”

Adora leaned back to meet Glimmer’s gaze, still chewing on the reed. After the beginning of the Horde’s campaign against Plumeria four months ago and they had finished settling the first wave of refugees onto Brightmoon’s grounds, Glimmer had appeared at the door to Adora’s room late one night with a controversial idea for the Rebellion: She-ra would train willing refugees and civilians to be soldiers of war.

It wasn’t a new or original idea, apparently. Glimmer poached the idea from her own father’s journal dated a few months before his death. King Micah had proposed the idea to the Princess Alliance and, to his surprise, met immense pushback. Throughout Etheria, it seemed that since the ruling Princesses typically wielded special powers far beyond what any of their vassals were capable of, it was long-established that nearly all protection or any physical conflicts fell solely on the ruling Princess’ shoulders, not her subjects. Beyond the training of personal guards, the practice of training a militia was practically unheard of among the kingdoms. Adora quickly realized why such a practice had made Etheria easy pickings for an organized military force like the Horde: overwhelming the Princesses with sheer numbers of disposable soldiers made conquering easy and the lack of trained militias amongst civilians left them with no tools to resist the onslaught of the Horde’s occupation. Mystacor, King Micah’s original home, was the only kingdom that trained all willing citizens in the magical arts characteristic of their culture, but even this decidedly non-military training was taboo. As such, Glimmer had repeatedly impressed upon Adora how important it was that she train the civilians covertly for as long as possible. So far, they had done quite well and evaded discovery far longer than Adora expected, owing much to Bow’s ideas on how to spread the word among civilians and refugees without using or alerting Brightmoon’s organized guards. Although Adora hated keeping things from Queen Angella because because of her past association with the Horde, she couldn’t help but agree that Etheria’s bizarre attachment to their own specific brand of feudalism hindered their cause. She-ra couldn’t be everywhere at once, so what better way to help protect the people of Etheria than to give them the training to protect themselves?

After a moment's consideration, she responded, “It’s still a little early to tell definitively, and I know that I’ve been saying that a lot, but- but!” Adora lifted her hand to stop Glimmer from interrupting her, heading off Glimmer’s frustrated reply, “I feel comfortable now saying that they are progressing much faster than I thought they would,” Glimmer’s wide grin was infectious, and Adora felt one grow on her own face as she continued, “These recruits pick things up faster than anyone I worked with in the Horde, especially the refugees. I guess it never occurred to me back when I was training in the Horde, but having a home they truly love to fight for is a much better motivator than fear. I am seeing firsthand how it’s reflected in their training.”

A small noise of excitement escaped from Glimmer and she drummed her hands on the desk. “Yes! I knew this was going to work! When do you think they’ll be ready for combat?” She hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully, “And… do you think She-ra will be ready as well?”

Adora’s expression darkened, her smile disappearing. At Glimmer’s behest in the library several months ago, Adora had begun cautiously reentering the the Crystal Castle several times a week. Many of her visits in the beginning had been dedicated to convincing Lighthope to train her at all without staying locked away in the Castle for years and exploring her control of the Castle defense systems. Her formal training in the full powers of She-ra only began two months ago, but Adora felt perpetually overwhelmed by the absurd amount of power she gained access to at each step of the way.

“I don’t know, Glimmer,” she said honestly, “I am so much more powerful, yes, but I feel so… out of control, you know?” Adora waved her hands as she struggled to come up with the right description, “Do you remember the second time I transformed into She-ra? During the Horde attack on Thaymor?”

Glimmer nodded. “Yeah, I remember that you single-handedly trashed an entire attack force!” She quipped, clearly confused by Adora’s reticent tone.

“Glimmer, _I don’t really remember doing that_.” Adora responded plaintively, voice laced with fear, “That’s what this new training feels like sometimes, like I’m watching myself from outside my own body. It’s.. disconcerting, to say the least.” She went silent and fidgeted, skin crawling at the thought of her apparently regular practice in dissociation.

Glimmer seemed genuinely disturbed by this news. “Well, do you think that it will get better with more prac—”

“Princess Glimmer, She-ra,” a guard interrupted Glimmer with a greeting, tapping the bottom of her halberd on the stone floor in deference, “Queen Angella requests your presence in her antechamber immediately.” She had appeared at the corner of one of the rows of shelves behind them.

Glimmer’s brow furrowed. “Please tell my mother that we are currently having an important meeting and will attend her after it’s over,” she said formally, every bit the Princess now instead of Adora’s worried best friend.

The guard cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly. “I am also to inform you that this request is not optional.”

Adora looked at Glimmer and waited for her lead before she moved. Glimmer met the guard’s eyes evenly, unmoving, but then sighed and rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Adora, let’s not keep mother waiting,” she feigned cheerfulness, but her voice was clipped.

Adora stood and left her notes on her seat; no doubt they would continue to talk about the militia and her own personal training when they returned. Then she gripped the Sword of Protection where it leaned against her seat and settled it into its sheath on her back, between her shoulder blades. Glimmer appeared next to her, her father’s staff in hand.

She wore her usual outfit, choosing to do so even though it exposed the wounds on her legs. Catra managed to deeply scar both of Glimmer’s legs, but the attack left her right leg particularly malformed and damaged. Brightmoon’s healers never managed to reattach the muscle on the back of Glimmer’s thigh to her knee and without the tension of its attachment, it bunched into a sort of long lump on the back of her upper thigh. The deep white scars started at her calf and continued up and around her lower thigh, criss-crossing like a web centered on a knotted scar that almost resembled a star on the back of her knee joint, where Catra had bitten her. Though she stood straight and steady on her own now, the internal damage to her knee and thigh meant that Glimmer would always experience some amount of pain while she walked. The wounds were closed and Glimmer had no visible healing left to do, but she would never walk without a prominent limp again.

When the guard turned to lead them to Queen Angella, Adora covertly glanced at Glimmer from the corner of her eye, checking to make sure that the pace wasn’t too fast for her. She limped heavily, unable to properly extend her right knee or her hip while walking, but her face remained impassive. She leaned on her father’s staff, and Adora suppressed a small smile when she saw how carrying it filled her friend with pride, regardless of the circumstance. King Micah’s staff might never be wielded in battle again, but Glimmer used it daily to assist her walking.

Adora knew that she could have just teleported to the Queen’s chambers; Adora herself had suggested it in the past, only to be strongly rebuked. Glimmer adamantly refused to be ashamed or reduced by her disability, even if she still struggled to come to terms with it in private. In the last six months, Adora and Bow had more sleep overs in Glimmer’s room than ever before, providing what little comfort they could when Glimmer sobbed, grieving her lost mobility and her ability to join them on the battlefield. During the day, however, Glimmer projected more strength than ever to the other Princesses and her Brightmoon subjects. As her plans and strategies proved to be extremely effective, she now commanded more respect among the Princess Alliance than anyone else except her own mother.

Occasionally, Adora wished that she could tell Glimmer how much she admired her for her response to her hardships, but Adora knew that it wasn’t what Glimmer wanted to hear.

The door to Queen Angella’s antechamber was open, and the guard tapped her halberd on the floor and announced their arrival. The Queen herself faced away from them, looking at something on her own desk. If the library was Glimmer’s personal study, then this antechamber before her personal rooms was Queen Angella’s. Here, she kept her own notes on the Horde’s progress and prepared the information she brought to the Princess Alliance war meetings.

“Leave us,” the Queen ordered icily, not looking up. The guards hurried to leave and shut the door, not wishing to witness yet another impending argument between mother and daughter regents. Adora braced herself for the onslaught.

When the Queen turned around, Adora ducked her head and stared at the floor. A sneaky glance told her that Glimmer did no such thing, and instead stared straight back at her mother. The thought of staring down Queen Angella when she was angry made Adora’s mouth go dry.

“Let’s skip the games today, Glimmer,” the Queen sounded tired, “did you really think I wouldn’t find out about your little training program?”

Glimmer shrugged. “No, I expected you to find out eventually. I just needed the time.”

From the way Queen Angella’s frown deepened, that was clearly the wrong answer. “If you got the idea to start an army from one of your fathers journals, then you must have read that it the Alliance almost unanimously rejected that idea, Glimmer! You should know better!” The Queen scolded.

“That was the previous Princess Alliance, mom, so that vote is hardly applicable,” Glimmer responded nonchalantly, as though she was discussing the weather.

The Queen’s voice grew sterner. “Then why didn’t you bring the idea to be voted on at the current Princess Alliance? No, don’t bother answering that,” Queen Angella flipped her hand, cutting Glimmer off when she opened her mouth to retort, “We all know it’s because it wouldn’t pass a vote. Glimmer, this is an unauthorized use of Rebellion resources and I command you to cease this foolish venture at once.”

No longer staring at the ground, Adora could see the anger glinting in Glimmer’s eyes as her mother dismissed her plan. _‘There has to be a way to get Queen Angella to understand what we do without a giant argument,’_ Adora thought, _‘but it won’t be possible the moment Glimmer raises her voice.’_ She licked her lips nervously.

“With all due respect, Queen Angella, I think that’s a mistake,” Adora cut in with a polite and even tone; both Queen Angella and Glimmer looked at her with surprise, “Many of these people have lost everything. They are angry and desperate and want to do whatever they can to get their homes back. The territories we talk about during the council meetings aren’t just land ruled by that Princess or another, it belongs to the real people who live and thrive on it too.”

Adora took a quick shaky breath, emotion seeping into her voice as she thought about her trainees, “They want this! They want to fight for their homes! Who are we to take that away from them?”

Adora held her breath as she looked up to meet the Queen’s gaze in the silence that followed. Gone was the surprise from Queen Angella’s face, replaced with a steely anger, her eyes flinty in a manner that distantly reminded Adora of Shadow Weaver.

“So you know what the people want because of the past two and a half years you’ve been with the Rebellion then, Adora? More than the Princesses that have ruled these lands for thousands of years?” Her voice was ice cold and Adora felt the heat rising in her ears, “Adora, I expected this kind of thing from Glimmer, but I am shocked and appalled that you—of all people—would find it appropriate to turn the people of Brightmoon and Plumeria into some kind mimicry of the Horde itself!”

Tears stung her eyes as Adora whipped her head down to stare wide-eyed at the floor, a lump in her throat and her face hot. While Queen Angella never questioned her loyalty out loud, Adora never shook the secret fear that her history with the Horde damaged Queen Angella’s willingness to trust her. Now, Adora felt deeply ashamed. _‘What if I am just recreating the Horde by training the militia?’_ Adora thought in a panic, _‘I never even thought about it. I should have thought about it!’_

Glimmer gasped in fury.

“Don’t you _dare_ , mom! Adora gave up everything she had ever known the moment she realized what the Horde was doing,” Glimmer was yelling now and she took a step forward, King Micah’s staff tapping sharply on the ground as she raised her free arm in front of Adora, “it might be different from the pain the Horde caused you and I, but Adora has been hurt by the Horde just as badly and you know it, so don’t you dare accuse Adora of trying to turn us into the Horde simply because she is training people who want to fight without dying! Brightmoon and the Rebellion would have been crushed at the Battle for Brightmoon without She-ra!”

“That’s exactly my point! She-ra is not just a powerful weapon, Glimmer, but a symbol and therefore an immense political influence on the people of Etheria. To use She-ra for something like this is unprecedented and irresponsible,” Queen Angella rounded on Glimmer now, shouting as though Adora wasn’t even in the room, “Adora needs to understand exactly what kind of political force she wields the moment she picks up that sword!”

“Mom, do you really believe that it’s some kind of grand coincidence that She-ra reappeared after thousands of years as a _Horde soldier_ , trained in _their_ barracks to use _their_ strategies to command troops in battle before just falling into our lap?” Glimmer scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Adora has done amazing things for us as She-ra, yeah, but she wasn’t trained to be the lone hero like past She-ra’s, she was trained to _lead_.”

“No kingdom in Etheria has ever maintained a standing military! Mystacor might train all its willing citizens in magic, but no kingdom has _ever_ trained their people for war. And for good reason: it means that civilian lives aren’t forfeited to solve disputes between Princesses,” Queen Angella practically hissed at Glimmer, clearly losing her composure.

“Wake _up_ , mom! Nearly _half_ of Plumeria is under Horde control!” Glimmer was exasperated, desperately trying to make her mother understand, “Brightmoon’s resources are cracking under the burden of refugees and although the Alliance might have managed to slow the onslaught in Plumeria, the Horde has so far remained unstoppable. So long as our strategy of war relies on the abilities of just a handful of extra powerful people, any single Princess death or injury means losing a huge portion of our collective fighting power. I’m not saying that civilians should be fighting in our stead, but if we had the support of troops on the field, our rate of victory and injury might be very different.”

Glimmer paused and Adora looked up to search the Queen’s face for any comprehension. Instead, Queen Angella’s brows furrowed again and she opened her mouth to respond, but Glimmer beat her to the punch.

“Look at me, mom! Look at my leg! Dad is _dead_ because this is how we’ve chosen to fight this war!” Glimmer shouted, gesturing down to her scarred leg. Then, her voice filled with contempt, “This is what we’re sacrificing so you can keep some twisted sense of _noblesse oblige_ alive.”

Queen Angella recoiled as if struck when Glimmer mentioned her husband’s death and Adora gaped at her best friend in shock. For a long moment the only sound was Glimmer’s hard breathing. Adora looked back to the Queen, anxiously trying to predict if Glimmer got through to her based on her expression. But Queen Angella masterfully schooled her face back to a blank mask, obscuring the pain she had clearly felt only a moment before.

Ultimately, she chose to fall back on her political justification and Adora’s heart sank as she quietly reiterated, “The Princess Alliance will never approve a proposal to form a standing military.”

Glimmer raised her eyebrows. “Okay fine, mom, you want to play it out politically? Let’s do it,” Glimmer wasn’t shouting anymore, but Adora could tell she was still angry by the short tone she took, “Here’s your new choice: either you let us continue to train our militia, or you can find someone else to run the refugee camps.”

Queen Angella’s lips pressed her lips together and thinned her mouth in frustration. Adora swallowed heavily. When the Horde first started rolling through Plumeria and the refugees poured into Brightmoon, Queen Angella had assigned the management of the refugee camps first to some of her personal guards and the consequences had been disastrous. The camp had been terribly disorganized, food and water dispersal was unequal and unreliable, and within a week, disease had broken out due to improper waste management. The Queen had then given the command over to a still healing Glimmer, who had managed to whip the camp into operable shape before she was even able to walk through it on her own two feet. Each subsequent wave of refugees got settled in faster and faster as Glimmer recruited Adora and Bow to refine her ideas.

Glimmer waited for Queen Angella’s response, but when none came, her expression thawed and softened.

“Three years ago, you gave me command of Elberon even though you knew I would botch it and I did. After my leg, you were the one who suggested that I look into Dad’s old journals,” Glimmer said quietly, eyes shining, “You wanted me to command, mom? Well this is it. This is me commanding. I just wish it was what you actually wanted.” 

Queen Angella turned away to hide her face from them, still unresponsive. Glimmer pushed her shoulders back and drew herself up, then turned to leave. “Let’s go, Adora.” 

Adora spared the Queen a quick last glance, feeling dumbstruck, then followed Glimmer from the room. In front of her, her friend still limped, but she carried herself with a sort of stoic sense of resolution that felt almost foreign to Adora. With a start, Adora realized that Queen Angella ultimately did get what she wanted: gone was her impulsive friend who hid fugitive Horde soldiers in her bedroom, replaced by a cunning and capable Commander who had learned to hedge her bets and leverage her assets effectively.

Strangely, Adora couldn’t decide if she felt good or bad about the ways the war changed Glimmer. Fear prickled up the curve of her spine, however, when she subsequently wondered if, unbeknownst to Adora, the war was changing her as well. 

 

* * *

 

Catra spread a hand over the map on the table, smoothing her fingertips up into the curling corners. It was a quality map, made with thick but pliable stock decorated with finely detailed lines that made up the Horde’s working knowledge of Plumerian terrain.

A narrow finger, skin chewed on one side of the short nail, tapped a hatched square outlined in a thicker black line just below Catra’s chin.

“This is our current location, Commander.”

Catra’s eyes snapped up to lock on Force Captain Zera, who also leaned over the map, now close enough for Catra to smell the barracks soap from her morning shower. Everything about her felt sharp, from her angled jawline to her cheekbones to her icey blue-white eyes. Her hair was jet black and clipped close around the sides, but left long on the top of her head, a mimicry of Lord Hordak’s style that had grown in popularity.

Zera held her eyes for only a moment, but then broke away and straightened, signaling for two of her squad members to bring weights forward to hold down the curling map corners.

When they were in place, Catra stood up as well and surveyed the map at a distance, folding her hands behind her back. "How recent is this map?"

"Drawn last night in accordance to yesterday's scouting in preparation for your arrival," Zera responded crisply.

Catra hummed in response. The map held good news: the Horde’s push into Plumeria had slowed since its rapid beginning, but still progressed. The Horde controlled territory—the only part of the map with detailed terrain—consumed the majority of the kingdom. The remainder of the Rebellion-controlled land was irregular in shape, almost pushed back to the borders on the north and south before thickening up on the east along the border of Brightmoon territory. The only anomaly was a thin length of forest connecting a small round of territory near the center of Plumeria to the rest of the Rebellion-controlled territory to the east.

“Tell me about this.” Catra tapped a sharp black claw on the strange formation.

“Enclosed in that circle is the main village in Plumeria, a capital of sorts. The village also contains Plumeria’s runestone, known as the Heart-Blossom. As you know, Commander, the Heart-Blossom is the source of the Plumerian Princess' power. Our forward push into Plumeria proceeded evenly until we came into proximity of the Heart-Blossom. The runestone is clearly a Rebellion priority, as the area has remained aggressively resistant to our efforts despite progress on either side.”

“Why not make it the focus of your main assault?” Catra interrogated sharply.

Zera looked unperturbed. "Based on the hostile activity in the area, it's guarded at all times by the Princess of Plumeria herself and occasionally the Princess of Ice. She refuses to leave that area and, while she remains there, she cannot fight us anywhere else. With just a little more time, we'll have gained enough control over the rest of the territory that we can move to cut off the supply route from Brightmoon to the Heart-Blossom. Then, we can just starve her out, capturing both the runestone and the princess herself.”

Catra nodded in approval. Already, the pincer-like plan was taking shape on the map as less and less Rebellion territory stood to support the main village.

“Exactly what makes it so difficult to attack the Plumerian Princess guarding the Heart-Blossom?” She asked, curious how such a small area remained so virulently resistant to the Horde’s war machines.

Zera made a small noise of frustration. "Hard to describe it in any other way than a giant barricade. Trees and ice—"

“Show me.” Catra commanded, already striding out of the room.  


* * *

 

  
Zera stopped the skiff nearly one hundred feet away. At her command, Zera’s troops had cleared the trees within the vicinity of what Catra could only describe as a bonafide wall. Well over one hundred-twenty feet in height and made mostly of living trees over 15 feet in diameter at their base, Catra struggled to hide her genuine sense of wonder from her face. The largest trees were covered in a rough, reddish bark. Between the massive trees, smaller trunks and vegetation packed themselves into the gaps.

At the foot of this impenetrable wall of vegetation, giant jagged spikes of ice dripped in the noon sun, sparkling with moisture. Rivulets of water draining off of them had turned the earth below the ‘wall’ into a soggy mud pit. At least four round bots from the Horde were sunk into it, clearly abandoned.

“Have you tried scaling teams?” Catra asked out of curiosity. She rubbed the pad of her thumb across her fingertips, knowing that her claws would make quick work of the wall with such rough bark.

Zera nodded. “She can feel their presence—through the trees, I suppose—and the result isn’t pleasant. Rapid growth usually throws climbers off the wall or simply spears them. One man who survived said he spotted flesh eating plants at the top, the same kind we encountered in the southern end of the territory.”

Catra’s tail lashed, the only indication that the news disturbed her. Marshes covered the southern border of Plumeria and the Horde had initially thought assumed they encountered unusually high Rebel activity as soldiers inexplicably disappeared. That changed when a large, pod-like plant along the edge of a swamp opened in front of a patrol and the slimey shell of Horde-issued armor filled with clean bones tumbled out, the only parts of a missing soldier that remained undigested over the week since his disappearance. Zera lost more than two squads worth of soldiers before they figured out the marshes were lined with carnivorous plants. The prospect of the Plumerian Princess growing them at will filled Catra with an uncanny dread.

“And the ice? How often it it refreshed?” She asked, eager to change the subject.

“I’ve assigned a small team to to keep a careful schedule of when it’s renewed, but there is no discernable pattern as of yet,” Zera responded, “It seems as though the ice Princess simply renews the barricade whenever she can. The heat guns should help, though.”

 Catra nodded, and signaled for the skiff to circle the area. Entrapta had been moody and difficult ever since the beginning of the Plumeria campaign; she flatly refused to make weapons designed to combat organic plant matter in particular. Fortunately, Catra had managed to get her to start creating resources for a campaign against the Snow Kingdom instead, knowing that the heat guns might still be helpful for their conquest of Plumeria. Entrapta’s behavior was annoying, but so far her work wasn’t needed to roll through Plumeria, so Catra mostly let her work on other things.

“Show me the front line of where we’ve pushed the furthest,” She commanded as Zera took the steering column of the skiff with a small salute.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the day, Catra remained in the character expected of her rank all the while experiencing unbelievable boredom. They toured the territory and visited all the auxiliary bases while Zera updated her on all areas of progress. It was a uniformly long and uninterrupted stream of positive news, likely fluffed in order to look good for the Commander’s visit. The day finally ended in a meal with Zera in her private quarters at the main base. 

Even amongst two high-ranking officers, a standard-issue messkit set the table, though the content of their meals was far superior to any meal Catra had eaten in the Fright Zone. _‘Fresh meat and produce from the area,’_ she thought while she cut another piece of her roasted venison, _‘A full victory in Plumeria will give us unprecedented access to farming land.’_ She finished before Zera, sitting back.

“So tell me, Captain, why exactly did you request my visit?” The points of Catra’s extended claws clinked against the steel cup of water she held loosely, drumming a tiny, quiet rhythm.

Zeras utensils stilled part way into her meat.

"It's rare for a Force Captain to volunteer themselves for a commanding officer to stick their nose in their command... So why am I here?"

Zera chewed thoughtfully, looking as though she was mulling over her approach.

"Don't get me wrong," Catra cut in once more, now inspecting her cup absently, "This front is of immense interest to Lord Hordak and myself. It's been altogether quite a pleasant visit as well. Everything I saw today confirms all that you've written in your reports, however. Plumeria is nearly beaten, things seem well, and yet your private message to me seemed to hold a different tone than your usual reports."

Catra didn’t meet Zera’s eyes. This was a careful game she was playing; inspiring both obedience and trust in one’s subordinates hadn’t come easy to Catra and it was a visage she still actively cultivated.

Zera leaned back in her chair as well. "You're right, Commander," she responded carefully, "There is another reason why I asked for your inspection. My reports are always up to code and factual according to protocol, of course, as is expected,” Zera paused here, and Catra now trained her sharp eyes on Zera’s face, “Lately, though, I've noticed a change in the behaviors of the Rebels at the front lines. It's subtle, but there seems to be more... organization and strategy than I've come to expect from their skirmishes. From the outside, it looks as though I might be succumbing to mild paranoia: our progress has sped up again and Rebel fighters are faster to retreat. However, they tend to be more effective against us lately. The number of wounded Horde soldiers per engagement, when normalized for length of time, has skyrocketed. Furthermore, more and more of our supply lines are being harried in a manner that I can only describe as premeditated.”

Catra returned to feigning disinterest now that Zera was done, pushing some kind of root vegetable around her plate with her fork, but was inwardly impressed. Such data collection indicated a detailed mind and Catra felt her choice of such a young Captain for this command vindicated. Now she knew exactly why she was here: it wasn’t prudent to write your personal feelings of suspicion into a formal report when there was very little cumulative evidence to support them. As Zera spoke, though, the hair on the back Catra’s neck stood on end as she began to share her instinct: something had changed.  
  
But Catra stuck with the role she was expected to play: "So you invited me here to share your mostly unsubstantiated feelings of dread in person?" She spotted a flash of disappointment on Zera’s face, but it quickly settled into something akin to smugness.

"Not entirely unsubstantiated, no." Zera drawled, standing and going over to her desk to retrieve a tablet.

She pushed Catra’s plate to the side and set the tablet in front her, bending over a little at Catra’s side to see the screen as well, close for Catra to count the tiny freckles dotting her shoulder. A few finger taps later and a video popped up on the screen.

“This video was captured outside the walls of Outpost 4YUL, one of our most recently established and most recently ransacked by Rebels for supplies.” Catra gave Zera a pointed look. “We visited it second to last today before heading back to base,” she explained and Catra nodded, turning back to the screen.

Zera pressed the play button. “This is the first time we’ve captured a Rebel raid on camera. They usually destroy our cameras before we catch a glimpse, but a smart private stuck one of those new battery powered cameras into a tree, so they didn’t spot it.”

As she spoke, Catra leaned in close to watch the clip play. The view wasn’t fantastic; there were some branches on the edge of the frame, but the outer wall of the outpost was visible, along with most of the large gate into camp. For a moment, nothing happened except for the waving of the branches, and then—

Catra craned forward with interest, eyes wide. Out of the dark right side of the frame, a shrouded figure crept low to the ground and pressed against the wall of the outpost. It was clearly one of the horned locals based on the distinct shape of the hood. Some kind of weapon was strapped to its back, but Catra couldn’t make it out. The figure was still for a moment, surveying the area, and then made a gesture backwards the dark foliage. Catra drew a sharp breath and leaned closer. Several more Rebels crept out of the right side of the frame, three carrying some kind of device. 

“They eventually use the device to open the gate, but that’s not why I’m showing you this.” Zera was speaking to her, but Catra wasn’t listening anymore. Instead, she watched the video, transfixed with the long series of hand signals and signs that the Rebels used to silently coordinate their movements. Catra suddenly felt light-headed, as though her stomach had dropped from her body. Her pulse hammered in her ears, barely able to pick up on what Zera was trying to say to her.

“You see it too, don’t you?” Zera’s voice was low and quiet now, “I can’t make out anything in particular, but small pieces of their signals are Horde hand signs.” It was obvious that she had more to say, but her courage had died before she put a name to the ghost from the Commander’s past. ‘ _You know how fast gossip travels in the Horde. Everyone knows you were part of her training squad,_ ’ Scorpio had mentioned to Catra after she had exploded for the second time at a subordinate who had the gall to even hint at her history with Adora, ‘ _but I’m not sure if they know much more than that_.’

Catra didn’t respond at first, mind racing as she watched the Rebels break into the outpost. When the Rebels had managed to crack the lock and wedge open the door, they disappeared inside and the video cut to black. Catra stood abruptly, causing Zera to scramble backwards in surprise.

Catra took no heed of Zera, striding past her towards the door while issuing orders. “Captain Zera, arrange for my transport back to the Fright Zone at dawn. When I leave, begin preparations for a considerable increase in troop numbers. You will also need to prepare quarters for myself and several advisors as well as Force Major Scorpia. The specifics will be communicated to you sometime tomorrow after I arrive at the Fright Zone.”

Zera tried to give her a hasty, sloppy salute, but Catra was already gone. 

As she strode back to her room, Catra felt a familiar and ugly pressure rise in her chest the more she thought of the Rebel hand signs. Unlike Zera, who could only recognize a few signs themselves, Catra caught small bits and pieces of their communication. Nothing substantial or useful, to be sure, but more than Zera would have expected. In addition to the Horde fragments that Catra knew, she also recognized the pieces of the hand signs that she and Adora had come up with for themselves.

The memory played over and over again in her head: they were fifteen, on the roof looking at the swirling clouds, and had been fluent in the non-verbal squad commands for two years already. Adora turned to her suddenly, saying, _‘We should have our own hand signs, Catra, so that when we’re out in the field together-_ ’ 

Catra slammed the door shut to cut off the memory and stood still to survey the contents, chest heaving. It contained amenities of a less utilitarian nature than the Horde was known for, clearly looted from the local villages. In three steps, she was at the writing desk on the left side of the room. She snatched up the corked glass bottle of ink and whirled with a vicious snarl, throwing the bottle at the opposite wall with all her strength.

The bottle exploded on the wall, glass tinkling across the room and ink blooming on the surface and spattering the rest of the room with black dots. Catra stood where she was, breathing heavily through her nose, watching the ink run down the wall and puddle onto the floor.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Arm the proletariat, comrades!


	4. You're not mine and I'm not yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rebellion strikes back at the Horde's invasion of Plumeria. At the heart of the conflict, Catra and Adora meet face to face for the first time in nearly year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back-to-back chapters?! Yep, that's right. A reward for y'all being so patient. Enjoy the angst!

When Catra woke, it was long before her dawn transport back to the Fright Zone. Catra jerked into consciousness at the sound of the blaring alarm. A red light blinked on and off rhythmically in her room, the only light after she had turned off the lamp before curling up on her ink-spattered blanket. Her heart raced, blood rushing through her ears at a pace out of sync with the alarm. Outside the thick door, she could hear shouted orders and boots clattering through the halls. At once, Catra knew exactly what had happened: the Rebellion attacked.

Catra rolled off the bed and cursed at herself as she ran for the door. The hand signs she saw in the video yesterday heralded an impending, more organized Rebellion attack, that much she predicted. Catra had assumed, however, that they still had some time before the Rebellion fell upon them. She was wrong.

The sound hit her like a wall when she opened her door, despite having her room located around two corners from the hallway connecting the barracks to the main yard. When she arrived at the main hallway, the scene was chaos. Horde soldiers rushed past in both directions, often in various states of dress. She snatched the collar of a slow one who was still trying to pull on his left boot, visor flipped up in the dim lighting.

“Wha—”

“Which direction to the surveillance room?” She hissed into the space where his face was, framed by the helmet.

He blinked blearily once and she nearly shook him, but then his eyes widened in recognition and he replied instantly, “Straight across the strategy room, down the corridor, first door on the left, Commander.”

She dropped him and sprang across the hall, moving like a dart. As she passed through the strategy room, she glanced briefly at tiny rectangle of a window near the ceiling. It was still dark, meaning the dawn hadn’t even begun yet.

When she burst into the surveillance room, a soldier waiting at the door menaced her with a taser for a moment before he recognized her and snapped into a salute. Catra didn’t bother chastising the guard, instead she moved straight to the back of the room where another soldier sat in front of a bay of flickering screens.

“Sergeant, report!” Catra commanded.

He didn’t even turn around, eyes still trained on the screen while he saluted. “Rebellion attack, Commander. They’ve gotten so close that we’re essentially locked in unless we intend to sustain heavy casualties.”

“How did they get so close?!” Catra snarled, “what about our outposts and sentries? I saw over a dozen outposts and three auxiliary bases yesterday!”

“I suspect they came from the South, Commander,” he responded, quickening his pace for what his voice lacked in fury, “Auxiliary West has no fighting reported at all. Auxiliary North reports that they are sustaining heavy attacks and calls for reinforcements. There is no response from Auxiliary South.”

Catra ground her teeth together so hard her jaw creaked. The western auxiliary base sat almost directly on top of the Plumerian-Fright Zone border, so it made sense that there was no attack where the Horde could immediately call for reinforcements. The northern base was positioned farther eastward in addition to being in the north, a strategic position that Zera had intended to use to pinch the main Plumerian town and Runestone off from supplies. The southern base was in the marshes. Zera mentioned that she had considered it their most vulnerable base, given the terrain and the Whispering Woods to the south.

“We’ve also lost all contact with the troops stationed around the wall surrounding the Plumerian Runestone,” He paused for a moment, then gestured to a screen that showed enemy movement outside the walls of the base, “Also, look at their soldiers. They look like they’re…” He trailed off.

Catra didn’t need to look to know, but she looked anyways. “They’re in formation,” she finished grimly, “Where’s Captain Zera?”

“Front yard, coordinating a barricade of the main gate.” He gestured up to a screen on the upper-right, where a small but distinct figure pointed with gusto at multiple units of soldiers, a small an unmoving figure in a sea of activity. “But Commander, there’s more…” He moved his finger to the bottom right screen, which was a feed from a camera placed on a high pole in the center of the yard, pointed to give a birds-eye view of the main gate and some of the territory beyond it. Due to the distance and time of day, the mass of Rebellion soldiers could scarcely be seen on the feed, but the lone, shining figure approaching the outside of the gate was unmistakable. Catra felt her hackles raise.

“That barricade won’t hold for shit,” she growled, turning to race out of the room.

As she ran, something in the back of her mind itched and spurred her on faster. Something was wrong, she could feel it. The figure on the screen, the one Catra knew must be She-ra, had inspired a deep and instinctual urge to flee that was wholly inconsistent with Catra’s entire conceptual understanding of Adora. Something about the way the figure moved towards the gates—it was _different_. It reminded her of the first time she had ever seen She-ra, when she had decimated an entire artillery squad like she swatted a few mosquitoes.

Catra jammed a sharp elbow into a soldiers ribs when he didn’t move from the doorway in time. She surged into the yard, the sky only just barely beginning to lighten now, and frantically scanned the area for Zera.

“Zera!” Catra bellowed, ducking through the soldiers preparing the base for battle to get closer to where she spotted Zera near the gate directing the barricade construction, “ _Zera!_ ”

Zera turned in the middle of a sentence, brows furrowed with confusion. “Commander?” she clearly meant to acknowledge Catra’s rank, but the title came out more like a question than she intended when she saw Catra’s wide frantic eyes, “Fortification of the gate is—”

“Fuck the gate,” Catra cut in, voice sharp, “Forget it! We have to go, right now. We need to evacuate as many soldiers as possible, maybe leave three squads in the base to slow them dow—”

A deafening clang followed by the ear-piercing screech of metal on metal interrupted Catra and she hissed in pain, ears folding flat against her head.

Silence followed the noise as every single soldier in the yard stopped moving and talking and looked to the gate. ‘ _It’s too late_ ,’ Catra thought, feeling like her heart might stop at any moment, _‘I’m too late.’_

The squeal of Adora’s sword plunging straight through the gate woke Catra from her stupor.

“ _Prepare cannons!!_ ” Catra screamed into the clear silence that followed, turning away from Zera and running back towards the low walls and artillery set up closer to the base entrance. It was the only thing she could think of that might have a good chance of stopping or at least slowing She-ra before she rolled over them like a bulldozer. If they were lucky, they might catch her in a blast off-guard like they had at the Battle for Brightmoon.

Everyone began moving again all at once, a new and panicky vigor driving the pace. Catra barked orders at the gunmen and a third wrenching noise came from the gate, followed by a fourth. Catra glanced at the gate and noticed that Zera was assembling a forward force of squads far too close to the gate. The rhythmic slashes of She-ra’s sword picked up pace as the integrity of the metal began to fail.

“Clear the gate!” Catra shouted, but it was too late, and she ducked behind a concrete barrier. After a brief lull, She-ra dealt the gate a massive blow strengthened with plenty of freakish Princess power. Much of the sliced metal of the gate blasted towards the yard while the remainder still attached to the rest of the gate curled inwards. The barricade and gate reinforcements Zera’s troops had constructed blew in under the unnatural force as well, the debris striking at least half of the soldiers Zera commanded near the gate. Of those that were hit, Catra guessed that most died on impact, a small blessing.

When the clatter of flying bricks and metal ceased, Catra leapt to her feet. Zera stood as well, blood streaming from her cheek and surrounded by her remaining soldiers, as she started shouting attack orders. Framed by the hole in the gate, She-ra radiated light and power like a beacon. As always, she was beautiful and bright, wearing the same golden chestplate and lengthened tiara she had donned at the first Battle of Brightmoon; she gleamed like a false dawn.

“Fire the cannons, all of them, now!” Catra cried, voice hoarse, pointing at She-ra and hoping to get a shot in before she started moving. Her artillery troops scrambled, but She-ra was already running into the fray of Zera’s soldiers while a veritable mob of Rebellion soldiers swarmed in behind her. Catra lifted her fist. “Hold your fire!”

She-ra cut through the Horde soldiers with a vicious nonchalance that Catra previously thought Adora incapable of. They fell away from her like dead leaves, many mortally wounded. Furthermore, all the remaining scraps of hope for a slim victory vanished the moment Catra laid eyes on the Rebel soldiers. Although the ragtag mob of goat people, humans, and other various animal hybrids (there was not a single Brightmoon guard along them) seemed incohesive at first glance, the passionate and restrained fury they unleashed as an organized group quickly showed otherwise. The first line of soldiers carried thick metal shields and a long spear while the large majority of the siege force wielded nasty looking sickles and machetes. The moment an opportunity arose, one of the Rebels would dart out from between the shields and cut down another Horde soldier, heedless of the blood.

She-ra, only a few paces from Zera now, lead the charge effortlessly. Catra silently urged Zera to run, but instead she lifted two nasty looking electric blades from her back and Catra’s heart sank.

But when Zera managed to dodge three of She-ra’s strikes in a row, Catra cautiously allowed herself a little bit of optimism. Zera held her own, ducking a long lateral swipe with ease.

Zera couldn’t be nimble forever though. She-ra found an opening and sliced downwards heavily, forcing Zera to catch the blow on her two swords above her head with sharp clang. The sheer strength of the blow forced Zera down to one knee, grimacing in pain. She-ra bore her weight down on Zera and the Captain broke off, rolling away and out from under the magical blade. As she moved past She-ra and found her feet, Zera lashed out and slashed a long shallow cut on She-ra’s side.

She-ra jerked back from the pain, providing another opening in her stance, her neck and shoulder completely unguarded. Zera grinned and lunged into the opening with her right sword, eager to end this battle. Catra watched the death of her old best friend in slow motion, throat closed over while her heart skipped a beat. Tears instantly sprang to her eyes unbidden and Catra’s mind blanked, unable to even silently plead for Adora to make it out unscathed.

But Zera’s sword met no flesh, harmlessly passing over She-ra’s shoulder next to her head; the flinched pain and the opening had been a feint and now an altogether different kind of dread filled Catra’s chest. Zera’s momentum carried her forward regardless, far too close to her combatant. She-ra struck forward with uncanny speed, too fast for Zera to dodge while off-balance. The sword sank deeply into Zera’s chest and she immediately went limp as the strength needed to hold her swords left her. When she straightened, She-ra jerked her sword out of Zera while she still choked on blood, letting her body fall in a heap on the churned ground, already looking up to find her next opponent.

“Fire cannons. Now!” Catra’s throat unlocked and she thought she might be sick, but she forcibly suppressed the impulse in order to do her job. Zera had been a soldier that she was supposed to lead, but there were plenty more soldiers left that needed her commands now.

The yard descended into further chaos. A few Horde soldiers pinned down against the outer walls dropped to their knees, hands raised; the first prisoners of war captured by the Rebels so far. Catra’s wide mismatched eyes took in the scene for just another moment, but it only confirmed what she already knew: this battle was lost.

“But Commander, we’ll hit our-”

“I said fire! Now!” Catra snapped. A high-pitched whine split the air and at first Catra thought it must be because she was in shock, but then she realized that it was the cannons charging. She-ra’s head whipped around to fix her gaze on the cannons, familiar with the noise from other battles.

For the briefest of moments, her eyes met Catra’s own straight on. She didn’t react at all, but Catra knew somehow that Adora hadn’t expected her to be here and wasn’t happy to find out that she was. Then, She-ra was shouting for her soldiers to get down and the sword had transformed into a golden shield, hiding her gaze. In a braced stance, She-ra took the brunt of four cannon blasts at once. When the smoke cleared, She-ra still stood, a feat that Catra previously thought impossible. A single blast like that at Brightmoon had blown She-ra back several hundred feet before. Now, the skin on the outside of her arms and legs looked a little raw and she breathed heavily, but she seemed otherwise completely unfazed. Her comrades faired less well; the bodies of some rebel soldiers lay smoldering at her feet, caught in the blasts that had missed her. She stared straight at Catra, face twisted in rage.

Catra met her gaze and barked out, “Fire at will!!”

Several soldiers began firing their blasters immediately and the cannons started to charge again, but Catra wasn’t there to see them. More rebels were pouring into the yard from the gate and she had things to do before they inevitably took the base. Catra deferred command to a lieutenant and raced into the base, dodging through the panicked soldiers within before snatching a barracks sergeant.

“Begin evacuating through the emergency tunnel immediately. Bar the door outside, the soldiers out there will buy you time.” She didn’t wait for his reply or assent, but heard large bars snap into place on the doors as she darted away.

She made her way to Zera’s quarters, away from the hectic soldier barracks. Soon, the shouts of panic faded away, replaced by only the comforting regularity of the alarm. In Zera’s room, she swept the paperwork on the desk onto the ground, then emptied the drawers of old reports and other papers onto the pile as well. She cast around, then finally nabbed the thin blanket from the nearby bed, dumping it onto the paper. She grabbed Zera’s extra pair of swords from the wall and crossed them on the pile after turning on the electricity. The swords sparked with excess current and set the blanket to smolder. A few puffs of breath later and a tiny flame appeared on the blanket, steadily growing.

Catra stood back and waited to ensure that the papers had caught, then slipped out the door once again. It was quiet outside, the remaining soldiers having been corralled into the basement where the emergency tunnel awaited them.

The eerie feeling of going through all these motions before crept softly up Catra’s spine. The background alarm, the frantic scrambling of soldiers, the pulsing red light; it was all the same as the day Adora had returned to rescue Glimmer from the Fright Zone over two years ago. Catra’s mouth tasted sour just at the thought of it—Adora _returned_ _to the Fright Zone_ for _Glimmer_. Catra darkly reminded herself that she didn’t regret returning the sword in response. Despite that, the moment featured heavily in a strange recurring dream she had: the alarm in the background making a strange beat while the red light progressively distorted Adora’s features. Catra would return the sword over and over while sobbing uncontrollably, uncharacteristically weak in front of Adora’s looming and mutated indifference.

A clang and a familiar metal screech shook her from her dreams. The noise came again and increased as she arrived back in the hallway leading from the barracks to the yard. The door was severely dented and distorted, and then it broke, falling inwards with clatter. The dawn light flooded into the hall, silhouetting She-ra’s massive frame in the doorway. The light fell on Catra, stinging her eyes.

“Grab her!” She-ra ordered, the shapes of other rebels appearing at her sides. Catra leapt into action, scrambling around a corner and into a hallway that split at a ‘T’, one corridor leading to the the strategy room and the other towards her room. She ducked towards her room, managing to slip around the doorway just before the pursuing footsteps arrived at the split. They paused momentarily, but no words were spoken, though some footsteps clearly started fading down the hall while a lone pair came closer. Catra pressed herself against the wall of her room and shifted herself behind the open door, trying desperately to school her breathing.

The pair of solitary footsteps cautiously entered the room. Catra held her breath, hoping that the intruder would do a quick search and then leave to look elsewhere, leaving Catra to burn all her important documents. Instead, she heard the crunch of glass under boots, and then nothing.

Catra waited a long moment, then peeked around the door she hid behind. Adora—not She-ra—stood motionless in front of the giant splash of ink on the wall, her back to Catra. She was missing her red jacket but still wore the tight white shirt with the Horde emblem on the back, now streaked with mud. Her pants and boots were muddied as well, and Catra surmised that the surveillance sergeant had been correct: Adora and her forces had come through the marshes from the south.

Catra weighed her options, but ultimately felt she could more than best Adora in a fight, even if it was clear she was no longer a match for She-ra. She pushed the door, letting it swing smoothly until it shut with a clang. “Hey, Adora,” Catra drawled, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms, sinking easily into the old game.

Catra felt a pang, though, when Adora’s shoulder’s dropped a little at the sound of her voice. When she turned to meet Catra’s gaze, there were dark circles beneath her eyes that hadn’t been present when she was She-ra. “Catra,” Adora sounded resigned and disappointed, gesturing a little at the wall with the sword in her hand, “Been getting into art lately?”

Catra’s grin transformed into an ugly sneer, feeling inexplicably hostile all of the sudden. “You almost died out there,” she spat, not understanding why she brought it up at all.

Adora looked just as confused as Catra felt. She turned to fully face her. “What are you doing here?” She asked, ignoring Catra’s almost accusatory statement, “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Catra hissed, uncrossing her arms and unsheathing her claws while her tail lashed. She thought of Zera’s body out in the courtyard, her recurring dream, and the cold, tired way that Adora watched her now. Suddenly, she craved one of their classic conflicts feverishly.

Adora didn’t match Catra’s battle stance, only looked at her evenly for a long while. Finally, she softly asked, “Are you going to come with—” Adora cut herself off briefly, stumbled to select the right words, then continued, ”—the other prisoners quietly, Catra?”

A strangled, choking laugh ripped from Catra’s throat, morphing into a snarl. She leapt forward and lashed out at Adora with her claws, yowling in fury, an unnatural sound that echoed in the room they shared alone. Adora blocked with the flat of the Sword of Protection, Catra’s claws skittering off of it harmlessly. When Catra slashed at her with her other hand, Adora barely  ducked in time, cursing under her breath. Catra reversed the direction of her arm, folding it into a vicious strike to Adora’s shoulder with her elbow. At nearly the same time, Adora swept Catra’s legs and they both went sprawling down in the glass and ink.

Always the faster of the two, Catra recovered first and leapt onto her prone combatant, straddling Adora with a knee on either side of her midsection. She winced as glass bit into her legs and the ink soaked into her leggings, but she her focus didn’t break from the ugly wrestling their fight dissolved into. Catra gripped the wrist of the hand that held the Sword of Protection hard, keeping her arm locked so that Adora couldn’t bring the sword near their bodies while they grappled each other with their free hands. The only sounds to be heard were their ragged breaths, grunts, and Adora’s feet scrabbling for purchase behind Catra’s back, slipping repeatedly in the ink and the tinkling glass. Adora tried desperately to strike Catra in the face, but Catra pushed herself in close so that even when Adora finally did land a blow to her eye, it was weak. Instead, she snatched Adora’s wrist when her arm was bent back as a wind up for another punch. Catra pushed down with all her weight, pinning Adora’s left arm down onto the floor just long enough to pick up her right knee and wedge the arm under it.

Adora grunted and then began say, “For the honor of—”

But with both her hands free now, Catra gripped Adora’s right wrist with both hands and smashed it onto the floor, Adora’s magic phrase interrupted when she yelped in pain. In a frenzy, Catra slammed Adora’s hand onto the floor repeatedly, heedless of Adora’s pained hiss and gritted teeth, until Adora finally let go of the sword and it clattered away to the side.

Everything stilled. Both of them were gasping for air now from the effort. As Catra’s breathing evened out, a grin began to break out across her face. With Adora’s left arm pinned under her knee and her right arm pinned by Catra’s left hand, Catra was closer to victory than she had been in years. She let out a few breathy laughs, turning to look at Adora.

“It’s over, Adora,” She rasped out, the smile disappearing from her face as she straightened and wrapped her thin right hand around Adora’s neck, beginning to squeeze.

Adora’s eyes widened with surprise, and her panting breaths started to whistle. Catra studied her face as she squeezed, but it was a mistake: she couldn’t remember the last time they had been this close to one another without Adora being She-ra. Perhaps at Princess Prom, more two than years ago? Catra could see that the features of Adora’s face, although streaked with mud and sweat and beginning to redden, had changed considerably since then, shedding the last vestiges of their shared adolescence. Her cheeks had lost the remains of her baby fat, the slight hollows highlighting high, elegant cheekbones and accenting her strong jawline. Her eyes had lost the childlike softness in their shape and the small, nearly imperceptible new lines beneath her lower lid aged her. Her mouth, which Catra usually pictured in her mind’s eye as full and pouty, now fit her face better and the ends curved down slightly in a serious manner that lent her authority and restraint.

As she observed these small changes, Catra’s hand unwittingly loosened its grip around Adora’s neck and instead slid softly over her tender skin, fingers drifting up and into the dirty blond hair behind her ear while her thumb swiped over her jawline. Somewhere deep in her abdomen, she felt something curl strangely. Her own features softened too, as though she were in a trance. Distantly, Catra understood that this was different from how she had always considered Adora objectively beautiful, similar to the way that she had regarded a sunset or the rise of Etheria’s two moons. She realized that, although she had always acknowledged Adora’s beauty, it wasn’t until here and now, confronted with all the ways that Adora had grown up without her, that she grasped how much she desired it.

Beneath her, relief washed over Adora’s face now that Catra no longer choked her, but quickly  changed to bewilderment as Catra’s slowly roaming fingers moved into her hair. “Catra, what—” She began, but the words caught in her throat when she met Catra’s soft gaze and her blue  eyes widened with comprehension and shock. Then, they narrowed with fury.

With a surprising burst of strength, Adora jerked her left arm out from under Catra’s knee and swung hard. Her clenched fist struck Catra square in the cheek just to side of her mouth. Spots exploded before Catra’s eyes and her body jerked to the side. Adora used Catra’s stunned shock to shove her hard, pushing Catra off her completely. Catra slumped to the side, reflexively holding her jaw while blood filled her mouth, gently probing a few loosened teeth with her tongue.

When she looked up, Adora had rolled over and grabbed her sword, glass crunching under her boots and falling out of the back of her shirt. She swung herself up to her feet with a grunt, gripping the sword tight despite probably having just as many glass shards in her palms as Catra did. Adora shook her head and wiped the back of a hand over her forehead to whisk the loose strands of hair from her eyes, leaving a streak of black ink.

Catra struggled onto her hands and knees, feeling dazed. “Fuck, Adora,” she groaned under her breathe, slowly spitting a glob of saliva and blood onto the floor. Her lip already felt tight with swelling.

Adora placed a boot on Catra’s ribs and pushed viciously, sending Catra sprawling again. “What the hell, Catra?!” She shouted, clearly furious, “Is this what your damn problem has been this whole time? You’re pissed off and trying to kill me whenever we see each other because you’re attracted to me?”

Catra tried to stand, slipped on some ink, and then caught herself on the side of her bed, finally pulling herself upright. She suspected that the only reason she’s upright was because Adora allowed her to stand. “No,” Catra growled, “No, you don’t understand.”

“Is this why you hurt Glimmer? To get back at me or something?” Adora’s words cut Catra like knives and she felt the cold hand of shame on the back of her neck, “Or because you were _jealous_?”

Catra hissed at that, head snapping up to deliver a scathing retort, but the words died on her tongue. Brow furrowed and eyes blazing, Adora’s face was contorted in a look of deep disgust. All the soft and fragile feelings that Catra had felt before emptied from her all at once, leaving her a hollow, paper-thin shell. She swallowed thickly and grimaced, voice hoarse and filled with defeat, “Think whatever you want. You wouldn’t listen to me anyways.”

Adora rubbed her temple with her free hand and made a noise of deep frustration. “Oh, of course,” She spat back, “I suppose you’re just the victim as al—”

The door suddenly swung open with such velocity that it crashed against the wall. Two goat-like Rebels spilled in, each holding a nasty looking sickle, the blades coated with blood. “She-ra!” One of them exclaimed while the other leveled his sickle at Catra, “Are you alright? We heard shouting and came as fast as we could.”

“They don’t even know your name,” Catra sneered.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Adora responded formally, signaling at Catra, “Bind her wrists.” She took a step closer to Catra, who still leaned against the side of the bed. “If you try anything,” Adora muttered darkly, “I’ll make sure my next punch knocks out those teeth this time.”

Catra held out her wrists and gave Adora a wide, toothy grin, blood clinging to the seams between her teeth. “I guess we’re both Commanders now, huh, Adora?” For her part, Adora just looked on in silence as one of the rebels bound her hands, expression uncharacteristically unreadable. When they finished, Adora gestured to the desk and Catra’s bags. “Radaj, collect all her papers and belongings. Make sure they go directly to Princess Glimmer.” The rebel who ceaselessly menaced Catra with his sickle nodded once and turned to begin his work. Adora turned away and muttered under her breath, a flash of light heralding her transformation back into She-ra.

She looked pristine, Catra numbly acknowledged, still reeling from the shock and shame of her emotional exposure to Adora and, in some ways, to herself. She-ra herself took hold of the coils of rope circling her wrists and began to lead Catra out of the room, followed by the other rebel soldier.

She-ra trailed Catra along out of the base and into the yard, not even slowing as Catra stumbled over the bodies of her own soldiers, and towed her out of the broken gate. To the east, a line of hobbled Horde soldiers—now prisoners of war—marched in single file into a freshly grown grove of trees, supervised by rebel soldiers. From the looks of the number in the line, very few of the soldiers successfully escaped through the emergency tunnel. To her surprise, She-ra began tugging her in the opposite direction.

“She-ra?” The other rebel that still hovered on their trail spoke nervously, “Uh, Princess Glimmer will most likely want to speak to—”

“Princess Glimmer isn’t here, Matthias.” She-ra responded dispassionately, “I’m in command here. Please go oversee the acquisition of resources and start coordinating with Princess Perfuma on the demolition plans.”

Matthias seemed like he had plenty more to say, but then he bobbed his head and shuffled away. With her subordinate gone, She-ra pulled Catra along again, moving fast around thickets and tree stumps where the Horde had cleared much of the land. They walked in a tense silence, broken only by the crunching of their footsteps. Finally, once the ransacked base was small in the distance, She-ra stopped and jerked Catra forward, tossing her out on the ground in front of her feet.

Catra rolled in the dirt, glaring up at She-ra once she stopped. “What are you doing?” Catra snapped, trying to hide her confusion.

“Go home, Catra.” She-ra replied, pointing with her sword, “The Fright Zone is that way. You should make it in a day or two.” The rest went unspoken, but passed between them in a measured look: ‘ _This isn’t because I like you.’_

“Adora, I—” Catra rasped, averting her eyes and pushing to her feet.

“Just leave, Catra!” She-ra cut her off explosively, but finished in a small voice, “I can’t—I don’t want to deal with you in Brightmoon with—with me.”

Catra said nothing. She turned and stumbled out of the clearing at a jog, hands still bound and cradled against her chest, unable to face Adora anymore. She took short gasping breaths as she ran, trying not to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed this! Either leave a comment below or come talk to me about whatever over at my [ tumblr! ](https://bitfibber.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Things are about to move much faster after this chapter. There will be many more 'scenes' per chapter now and I am hoping to reach the end of the war next chapter. Keep an eye on the timeline post I linked in the last chapter to stay on track! Also, let me know if there is anything you don't understand.


	5. heart of glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lonnie clocks Adora with ease, the War finally ends, and Angella gives Adora a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Grad school blows. Enjoy!

Lonnie made a great show of hawking a glob of spit at her face, but even this gesture of contempt was weak. It spattered onto the ground barely half the length between the cot Lonnie huddled on and She-ra’s feet. Radaj started forward, face contorted and the butt-end of his sickle handle already raised, ready to repay Lonnie’s insolence with a few hard blows.

She-ra stepped in front of him, her arm raised to block this way, the Sword of Protection held by the hilt so that the blade was perpendicular to her arm and pointing straight at the ground. 

“No, Radaj, don’t.” The goatman met her eyes with his square pupils, clearly puzzled, and she lowered her sword. Only a year her junior in age, Radaj had lost his parents, siblings, and farmstead when the Horde pushed its way into Plumeria. As a result, he was one of the first refugees to step up for militia training. At first aggressive and stubborn, Radaj quickly grew into one of Adora’s most talented trainee’s with patience on her part and, with time, a trusted friend. In the quiet light just after training, he had gripped his training staff with white knuckles and told her that he was supposed to be a farmer. Although Adora would never know what it meant to be a farmer, she could relate to preparing for her life as one thing only to end up as something else entirely. “Leave us.” 

Radaj bobbed his head and lowered his sickle before leaving the tent, but Adora knew he wouldn’t stray very far. Quietly, Adora suspected that he only left at all because of the prisoners poor condition.

Lonnie still shivered violently, even though the tent was heating up well. Her lips were severely chapped and her brown eyes blazed from dark hollows, cheekbones sharp and deeply shadowed from hunger. Beneath the heavy furs that Adora had ordered draped over her, Lonnie cradled a hand swathed in bandages, where frostbite had claimed three of her fingers. 

Exhaling, Adora released She-ra’s form and transformed back into her own body, then inhaled sharply, trying to quell the rage that bubbled up in her chest at Lonnie’s sorry state. It was no longer her place to be furious on Lonnie’s behalf, but old habits were hard to break. Three months had elapsed since the Horde moved North for a strike on the Ice Kingdom, Lonnie leading a force woefully underprepared for the harsh conditions that both the territory and the Rebellion would bring down on them. Practically itching out of her skin at not knowing the truth of the Horde’s internal situation, Adora strongly suspected that part of the disaster that befell Lonnie’s force resulted from the tiny amount of time the Horde had spent licking their wounds; only a scant two weeks had passed between the complete ejection of the Horde’s forces from Plumeria and the deployment of a Northern invasion force. Though they had initially shown the same deadly efficiency similar to the beginning of the Plumeria invasion, it quickly became clear that the Ice Kingdom would not be so easily steam-rolled.

Furthermore, the Rebellion played no small role in the invasion’s demise. Glimmer had orchestrated a tactically brilliant move: the citizens of the Ice Kingdom had been evacuated further and further north, luring the Horde invasion forces further into the snowy territory. They ruthlessly pursued the rebellion soldiers that they chanced upon and, when caught, Rebellion soldiers were murdered rather than kept as prisoners of war. But when the Horde finally came into sight of the Ice Palace’s outer walls, hungry and haggard, an unpleasant surprise awaited the large force. Adora and Swift Wind delivered Frosta behind their ranks, and she expended nearly all of her power sealing off the Horde’s means of retreat in the form of a perpetual blizzard while the other princesses defended her walls. 

Then, under Glimmer’s orders, they waited. The only engagements were the small skirmishes caused by the Rebellion slowly picking off the Horde’s robots and raiding their food stores whenever possible. Caught between a heavily fortified castle and an unyielding blizzard, the army began to freeze and starve. Eventually, desperation drove the troops to forcibly unseat their commander in an act of mutiny and the soldiers immediately surrendered. The soldiers were worse off than any of the Princesses had expected. Hunger had winnowed their faces and their eyes seemed full of shadows.

Now their commander sat hunched before Adora, swathed in furs, too weak to even spurn the thin broth the Ice Kingdom troops were distributing amongst the starving prisoners of war. Adora watched as Lonnie struggled to raise the bowl to her cracked lips, trying to use her bandaged hand as a sort of platform to steady the shaking from her other grip. Adora bit her lip, trying to pick apart the strange ball of mixed emotions she felt when she saw Lonnie, hoping to pick out some stern anger, but didn’t get far. She sighed, sheathed the Sword of Protection on her back, and then dragged a sturdy leather stool from the corner. 

Adora sat and nabbed the bowl from its perch on Lonnie’s bandages just before it could topple onto the hardpacked snow floor. When she proffered the bowl to Lonnie’s lips, her mouth turned down and her face contorted into a scowl, turning her head away. Adora had expected this, though. “Lonnie,” she intoned quietly, “You have nothing else to lose.”

Lonnie remained silent for a moment long moment, but Adora waited patiently. Eventually, Lonnie turned her face back to Adora and put her lips to the bowl. Adora tilted the bowl slowly as Lonnie drank, watching as she squeezed her eyes shut. Two wet tracks of tears traced down her cheeks, but Adora couldn’t be sure if they were from despair at her situation or relief from receiving her first real nutrition in days. When the bow the bowl was empty, Adora set it on the floor. Lonnie coughed into her furs while Adora surveyed her old teammate, solemn.

Lonnie raised her eyes to meet her gaze, dark rings underscoring her eyes. “So,” Lonnie’s  hoarse voice sounded just as exhausted as she looked, “what happens to us now?”

Adora’s kept her gaze and voice even. “The others will be brought to a prisoner of war camp with the other Horde soldiers that have surrendered. You and any other officers of rank will be kept in a separate camp.” Adora saw a flash of panic in Lonnie’s sunken eyes and held her hand up, voice rising in pitch, “And yes before you ask, the camp is provided with consistent food and humane living quarters. I helped design and set up the camps myself.”

“At least it’s a nice cage, then.” Lonnie sneered, though Adora suspected her heart wasn’t in it, “ And what about after the war, Adora? What happens when— if you win?

Adora raised an eyebrow at Lonnie’s slip but didn’t comment on it. “Honestly, I’m not sure,” she responded quietly, resting her elbows on her legs, “we haven’t even begun to discuss it. I’ve been thinking about it though.”

Adora lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Lonnie remained still, her gaze boring into Adora while she waited. Something tickled at the back of Adora’s throat when she realized that this wasn’t the first time Lonnie had stared her down like this. Nostalgia lapped at her toes, and Adora swallowed suddenly, eager to head off her own memories.

“I think,” she started slowly, “that some of the others in the Alliance will call for punishment for at least some of the Horde soldiers—officers and the like. As for the rest, though, I don’t think that would be very fair.” Adora shrugged, “I mean, if a Horde soldier can become the Rebellion’s hero, what’s stopping any other Horde soldier from turning into something else?”

Lonnie only nodded once, and looked down in relief. 

Silence stretched between them again and Adora realized that even when she was in the Horde, she and Lonnie hadn’t ever really talked too much beyond sparring banter. Uncomfortable, Adora blurted out, “Lonnie who sent you here? I’ve looked around and your squads were massively underprepared for a seige in the North.” _‘Glimmer almost thought it might have been a trick, it was so easy,’_ she didn’t add. 

Lonnie’s stoicism vanished in heartbeat and she scowled, lips curling over her teeth. “Catra ordered it,” She spat with such vitriol that Adora flinched, “Things have changed, Adora, since we lost Plumeria.”

Adora felt her mouth go dry at the mention of Catra and Plumeria. She thought of the last time she had seen Catra, several weeks ago: ink-stained and bruised, the corners of her mouth smeared with blood and tears spilling from her wide, mismatched eyes as she stumbled away into the large shrubs, all that remained of the vast forest that had once surrounded the base. Catra hadn’t been the only one to cry that day; after endlessly exhausting hours of tromping around the Horde base as She-ra, issuing commands left and right, Adora had quietly retired to a tiny tent somewhat apart from the other troops and began heaving great sobs into her pillow. She had felt torn apart from the inside-out by the soft look in Catra’s eyes, unable to reconcile this development with everything else going on. She had been both relieved and horrified, happy to have feelings she hadn’t even known existed (let alone _named_ ) reciprocated, only to immediately begin grieving over her inevitable loss. The way Catra’s mouth parted ever so slightly while her eyes searched Adora’s face had answered a hundred questions and asked a thousand more. Not a day went by since that Adora didn’t think of her face or the way her fingers felt in her hair. 

“What—,” Adora stumbled through her words, desperate to figure out a way to ask more about Catra indirectly, “What do you mean?”

Lonnie snorted, “I never liked Catra, you know that. But she wasn’t a bad commander until the Horde retreated from Plumeria. When she came back, it was like we’d already lost the whole damn war.” Lonnie practically growled out her words, teeth working against her barely contained fury. “She barely did anything, barely planned anything, barely gave any orders! She stays in her room all day long or just wandered around. Us Force Captains were figuring out what to do on our own, until she ordered the siege on the Ice Kingdom.”

Confused, Adora listened closely, leaning forward a bit in her chair. Had Catra changed since their last run in? Had she had a change of heart about the war? Was she thinking of switching sides? Adora felt her chest constrict painfully around this last strange piece of hope. She felt wound like a coil within herself, filled with tension and worry. _‘What if something is wrong with Catra?’_ She thought, and her mind raced with ideas and half-formed plans on how she could check on or even help Catra in the Fright Zone. 

Adora cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice nonchalant, “So she’s—Catra is not—she’s behaving strangely?”

A hoarse, scratchy laugh choked out of Lonnie’s throat, and Adora’s face burned in response, knowing that Lonnie read her like a book. Lonnie’s mouth twisted in a wry smirk and her eyes turned sharp and derisive. “Fuck Adora, you really can’t help yourself can you? She got her claws sunk so deep in you that you still have to know if she’s okay, huh? Some things never change, even when you turn coat, I guess.” Adora’s heart beat wildly and she sat back up and away, eyes wide as she tried to put a little distance between Lonnie and herself. But even as Lonnie’s scorn stung Adora, she could hear an almost wistful or nostalgic tone tinge the edge of her tone, as though she thought back to other, better times. But when Adora opened her mouth to respond, Lonnie continued and all the wistful affection disappeared from her voice, replaced with a deep and resounding bitterness. “Well don’t worry, Adora,” she rasped harshly, “I’m not sure what you did to break her in Plumeria, but clearly you’re just as deep under her skin, too.”

 

* * *

 

The only sound she can hear was someone’s ragged breathing. It was the sort of labored panting so forceful that it was marked with the harsh, disgusting sound of air pushing thick mucus around in the back of the throat. Every time the noise sounded, a sharp pain pulsed outwards from the ribs on her left side.

 _‘I need some water,’_ Catra thought dimly, only just realizing the noise was coming from her own mouth. 

In front of her, two giant sliding doors repeatedly attempted to close over a pile of twisted metal pipes air vents, wreckage and debris that had been torn down from the ceiling during the siege. 

It had all happened so fast. One moment, she had been staring into the darkness of her room, yet again unable to sleep, and the next moment the alarm was blaring again, just like it did in her dreams. For a long while, Catra had laid alone in the inky black darkness of her room, thinking she was still dreaming until Scorpia had burst into her room babbling about a full Rebellion siege. 

Two unmoving bodies in Horde armor lay slumped against the debris. Catra regarded them with a dazed and distant look. She dipped to pick up the rifle not laying in a pool of blood and staggered when she tried to straighten, partially falling against an air duct. She hissed, looking down. A deep cut in her thigh sluggishly pumped blood down her leg and she pressed the side of the rifle to it, relishing the way the cold metal felt against the burning pain. After a moment, she dragged herself up and over the rubble filling the entrance to Hordaks quarters. 

She stumbled when she made it back to the floor on the other side, but kept her feet. Everytime she stepped, she left a slippery footprint of blood. But there was no time to bandage it beyond the tourniquet she tied on earlier. _‘I have to tell Hordak that we’re going to lose,’_ she reminded herself, the thought becoming a sort of mantra: _‘We’ve lost. We’ve lost. We’ve lost.’_

The air was frigid around her feet but so hot up by her head that she was sweating, a mystery she might have solved if she had recognized the destroyed refrigeration units and other lab equipment she maneuvered around. Catra shook her head, but the fog in her brain remained. Somewhere in the back of her head, she knew all of this—the rubble, the dead guards, the quiet—wasn’t normal. She knew that someone was here, that Hordak was in danger, but she couldn’t force her body to limp any faster. 

Up ahead, closer towards Hordak’s throne, Catra finally heard something other than her own breathing: a cacophony of breaking glass, the shriek of metal equipment getting crushed, and the grunts of a battle. Finally, she turned the corner and gasped. At the top of the platform, She-ra stood not like the usual shining beacon of glory, but a bloody harbinger of dread and death. She was bruised, dirty, and beaten. A thin line of blood marked the corner of her mouth and a wound on her scalp matted some of her hair and bathed the side of her face and neck in red. A very deep cut on her sword arm is still bled freely, dripping down onto the blade of the Sword of Protection clenched in her hand.

In her extended left arm, she squeezed a man’s neck tight in her grip. Nothing remained of his left arm but a clump of torn bloody fabric while the other hung limply at his side, clearly crushed beyond use. Catra heard his breathing from where she stood, wet with blood and even louder and more labored than her own. There were foamy red bubbles on the man’s lips. Catra wondered why She-ra was squeezing him so hard.

“Adora?” a voice called out. Catra blinked as darkness wavered at the edge of her vision, confused by the sound of her own voice. The man turned his head spotted her first. “Catra!” Hordak rasped with a desperate sort of authority. _‘Hordak! That’s Hordak!’_ her thoughts screamed. “Shoot her, _now_!”

Catra raised the rifle, instinctually lining the sights up on She-ra with ease. She moved her index finger from the flat side of the gun to the trigger. She-ra finally turned her head to look at her. She met Catra’s eyes with an even look. There was no plea or apology in her gaze, just a tired acceptance. But even as Catra stared into She-ra’s bright, sky blue eyes ( _‘so different from Adora’s eyes’_ ), Catra couldn’t help but remember that Adora laid somewhere just below the surface.

The rifled wavered, only for a moment, and then Catra dropped he it, Hordak’s eyes going wide with panic as it clattered onto the ground. 

She-ra turned back to Hordak without a word and her sword started to move, but Catra was already falling. It felt like falling into a cloud: down, down, down into the cold layer of air that coated the floor. She heard a wet a grunt and wet gurgle of pain, followed by a strange wet sliding noise and the sound of dripping. She stared at the ceiling and traced the path of the pipes, the focus of her eyes fading in and out. The floor was cold, so cold, and she began to tremble from the chill. Elsewhere, something dropped heavily onto the ground and Catra felt, rather than heard, the approach of footsteps. 

“Catra?!” Adora sounded so far away and frantic, even though her dark stormy blue eyes and disheveled hair crowded Catra’s vision, “Catra, can you hear me? Say something!!” Catra stared up at her and wondered why Adora painted half her face red.

Adora stood suddenly, so fast it made Catra feel nauseated. She removed her giant sword from her back. The blade swung down and the point stopped just short of Catra’s face, directly above the spot between her eyebrows. Rivulets of red criss-crossed the length of the blade, pooling towards the tip until it finally dripped onto Catra’s forehead. She furrowed her brows. _‘I_ — _I hate that thing.’_ Catra tried to focus a glare on Adora’s face, but she could barely see now.

“Don’t you dare die,” Adora warned, and the blade of the sword blazed with a brilliant blue light, burning Catra’s vision, and then the world went black.

 

* * *

 

When Adora finally awoke in Brightmoon’s healing wing, only Queen Angella sat at her bedside, quietly reading scraps of parchment from a pile in her lap. Adora sat up quickly, feeling cornered. She glanced nervously at the bed just behind Angella’s back, where Catra still lay, now swathed in bandages.

“She’ll recover,” Angella replied to Adora’s unasked question. 

Adora swallowed thickly, and reached for the glass of water sitting on a small table to her right. Often, many of her duties as She-ra felt natural to Adora, but speaking to the Queen was not one of them. She picked her words carefully, feeling as though she was playing at politics even  now in this private conversation. “Is it over?” She asked quietly after taking a drink.

 “In some ways,” Angella responded evenly, eyes still tracing back and forth over the lines of the note she was reading, “In other ways, this is just the beginning.”

Adora nodded, thinking of the discussions that the Alliance had already begun to have about life after victory, a topic that had never been discussed before. They debated assimilation or punishment for low-ranking Horde soldiers, potential military tribunals for Force Captains and other members of rank, and what to do with Scorpia and a shockingly alive Entrapta. They never discussed Hordak, because it had been assumed that he would be killed in battle. They also never brought up Catra’s fate, an omission that had made Adora profoundly uncomfortable at the time. Now she wondered if it was because everyone thought she would die in the battle as well.

“What will you do with her?” Adora asked, staring at her fists bunched in the blankets in her lap.

Angella set the parchment down in her lap and looked at Adora for the first time since she had awoken. She looked tired, just the same as she always did, and Adora felt strangely disappointed. Although she had never really thought about it, Adora had been hoping that once the war was over, she would have made Angella happy in some way. Instead, Queen Angella just looked like she was ready for a new war. “She will go through the military tribunal just like the other leaders, though I have a feeling her punishment might be more severe for her role as the Second-in-Command.”

Adora squeezed her eyes shut tight, feeling the beginnings of tears at the corners. “Scorpia and Entrapta aren’t going to a tribunal,” she shot back quickly.

“Scorpia and Entrapta are Princesses, Catra is not.” Angella answered gently, sounding like she was on the verge of consoling her, “We can’t risk upsetting the balance of Etheria by putting princesses—even Horde-aligned princesses—at risk in a tribunal.”

A tear traced a path down Adora’s cheek, despite her best effort. She took a shuddering breath, calming herself. Then she met Angella’s eyes. “I have given everything I have ever had to this war and I have never asked you for anything in return.” She began, fighting to keep control of her voice, “Because it was the right thing to do.”

“Adora—” Angella tried, but Adora cut her off, turning to meet her eyes.

“This is the only thing I will ask you for, Angella.” Adora pleaded, “Don’t send Catra to a tribunal. Don’t send her to die.”

“Adora, think about what you’re asking,” Angella admonished, “I know that she was important to you during your time in the Horde, but can you even say that you know her anymore? Do you know who you are saving?”

Adora shook her head vigorously. “That’s not important.” She insisted, “Please Angella, you know what it’s like to lose someone important to the Horde. Don’t—don’t ask me to give the same.”

At the mention of her late husband, Angella broke her gaze and looked to the floor.  She remained quiet for a long time, and then finally heaved a large breath.

“For what you have done for us as She-ra and for what you, Adora, have sacrificed in the meantime, I will do this.” Angella relented, “But Adora, I fear that what you want and what I am giving you are not the same. I fear that you are mistaking stars reflected in a pond at night for those in the sky.” Angella reached out, gripped Adora’s shoulder, and squeezed, “I don’t know if Catra is capable of giving you what you want.” 

Adora wanted to say that she isn’t sure what Angella means, but the Queen got up from her chair.

“Take another night to rest here, Adora, but then the work will have to begin again. We will need you.” And then she turned towards the exit.

Adora slumped back onto her pillow when the door shut behind her. She wanted to lash out, to shout back at the Queen that she was wrong, that Catra was worth saving, and that Adora knew it in her bones. But, as tears escaped the corners of her eyes when she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, the truth was that Adora had no idea anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angella's warning at the end, "I fear that you are mistaking stars reflected in a pond at night for those in the sky" is almost word for word from the Witcher series written by Andrzej Sapowski. I just finished them and they had a huge impact on me, so I wanted to pay a little bit of an homage to his work this chapter! 
> 
> Also, I hope this chapter clarifies more of Adora's feelings.
> 
> As always, I hope you have enjoyed this and if you have, feel free to comment or contact me on my [ tumblr! ](https://bitfibber.tumblr.com/)


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